
































































































































THE KING OF 
NO MAN’S LAND 




























] 

THE KING OF 
NO MAN’S LAND 

BY ARTHUR O. FRIEL 

Author of “TIGER RIVER,” Etc. 



Publishers 

HARPER & BROTHERS 
New York and London 
1924 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


Copyright, 1924 
By Harper & Brothers 
Printed in the U. S. A. 


First Edition 





VVl.ir- 


CONTENTS 


\ 

6 ^ 



(T^> 


CHAPTER PAGE 


I. 

Men of the Bush . 




i 

II. 

Fighters Three 




12 

III. 

Missing. 




25 

IV. 

The Priestess of Piatzo . 




40 

V. 

Jungle Justice 




52 

VI. 

The Stronghold . 




64 

VII. 

The Outlaw King 




75 

VIII. 

The Inquisition . 




89 

IX. 

A Girl of the Head-hunters 




102 

X. 

A Voice from the West . 




115 

XI. 

The Messenger . . . 




128 

XII. 

The Lure. 




140 

XIII. 

Dream’s End .... 




153 

XIV. 

Forward. 




164 

XV. 

The King Jests . . . 




176 

XVI. 

The Seed of Distrust . 




187 

XVII. 

The Fruit of Discord 




201 

XVIII. 

The Temptation of Tim 




213 

XIX. 

The Bird of Evil Omen . 




228 

XX. 

Retreat. 




239 


V 











CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XXL Two Chieftains Fall.251 

XXII. At Bay.265 

XXIII. The King Comes Home .... 276 

XXIV. Aftermath.287 

XXV. The Showdown.297 

XXVI. The Throwback.312 

XXVII. The Mists Break.324 

XXVIII. Adios. 339 


vi 








THE KING OF 
NO MAN’S LAND 





























































'■ 














vv • 
































THE KING OF 
NO MAN’S LAND 


CHAPTER I 

MEN OF THE BUSH 

T HE head-hunter was consulting the devil. 

Alone in the jungle, his back against the 
base of a colossal tree, his glassy eyes fixed in a 
vacant stare, he listened to the satanic counsel 
of the death demon of the Jiveros. At his feet 
lay a calabash containing the dregs of the coffee- 
colored bark decoction with which he had raised 
that malevolent spirit. Beside him, leaning 
against one of the tall buttress roots among 
which he squatted, rose a straight, slender tube, 
his blowgun. Against his hip hung his short 
dart quiver, cotton ball, and poison gourd. The 
wish and the weapons for murder were his; and 
now he was receiving the diabolical approbation 
always sought by his people before an assassina¬ 
tion—and always accorded. 

“Kill him!” exhorted the demon. “It will be 
easy. Call him out—then shoot him. It is right 


2 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


that he should die, for he has four wives and 
you have only two. Then you will have six 
women, and a new head to shrink, and respect 
from your fellows.” 

The vacant eyes did not flicker, nor did the 
lips move. But the drugged brain visioned the 
shadowy grin of the fiend, and the crazed con¬ 
sciousness answered without speech. 

“But he has brothers who will take my head 
in turn, and take his women, and my own, too.” 

“No!” disputed the infernal adviser. “Why 
stop at killing him alone? Kill them also, one 
by one, as fast as you can shrink the heads—for 
you must not neglect to make the heads small, 
and you can do only one at a time. So you shall 
have more heads and more women. The young¬ 
est brother has no women yet, but his head is 
a head. Think of it! More women than the 
fingers on both your hands, and one—two— 
three—four fine heads! And then nobody will 
laugh at you because you lost that white-man 
head.” 

The dilated eyes narrowed slightly as a scowl 
lowered the black brows. 

“Bad luck has been upon me since the head of 
the white was lost,” was the soundless confes¬ 
sion. “But how could I know that the head 
would be stolen while I was away on a hunt? If 
only I could get a white-man head with red hair! 
That would be better than the black-haired one 
I lost.” 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


3 


The demon laughed jeeringly. 

“You are not likely to get another white-man 
head soon. You must kill that Indian with four 
wives. You must! And then his brothers. It 
is so easy—you will do it in this way. Be quiet 
and I will tell you.” 

The weird dialogue went on. The scattered 
splotches of sunlight on the forest floor crawled 
slowly toward the motionless figure in the dim 
root recess. Little breezes came and went. 
Somewhere a toucan yelped over and over: 
“Piapoco! piapoco! piapoco!” High above, in¬ 
visible through the thick roof of branches and 
leaves, flying macaws screamed harshly. The 
narcotized senses of the squatting aborigine per¬ 
ceived none of these things. The Jivero demon¬ 
draught, which may grip its devotee for five 
hours or more, still held him in thrall. 

Even when one of the creeping sun splashes 
reached his feet and began ascending his legs 
he did not move. The rising light revealed mus¬ 
cular calves and haunches; stocky, deep-chested 
torso; thick neck encircled by a collarlike neck¬ 
lace of seeds and tiger claws; heavy jaw, hard 
mouth, flaring nose; snaky eyes, low brow, long 
black hair. In the hair were a few bright toucan 
feathers; from it, at the sides, projected ears 
thrust through with sections of wild cane which 
dangled to the shoulders. His build was that of 
a brute. His expression, as he still talked with 
the fiend he had called up, was that of a reptile. 


4 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


Limned against the gray-green tree as by a 
spotlight, he was a copper statue of abysmal 
savagery. 

A flash of orange and red darted athwart the 
near green, followed by another and another. 
They wheeled, halted, poised on limbs, and be¬ 
came toucans. A moment of turning their huge- 
beaked heads this way and that—then they 
burst into raucous derision of the man below. 

t( Piapoco! piapoco!” they yapped, hopping 
and thrusting their beaks as they yelled. Their 
screams, so near him, jarred on the dulled 
nerves of the savage. His opaque eyes flicked 
up at the birds. One hand stole automatically 
toward his blowgun—but did not grasp it. The 
devil was insistently recalling his attention, and 
the hand sank. 

“You will do it so!” adjured the evil spirit. 
“And then the head—cut down the back of the 
scalp—out comes the skull—then the pot and 
the hot sand-” 

“ Piapoco! piapoco! piapoco! piapoco!” railed 
the impudent chorus above. 

Then, abruptly, it stopped. The big bills 
turned downward—but not toward the head¬ 
hunter. The black-red-gold bodies hopped 
around, the bold black eyes peered into the 
tangle—then three flashes shot again across the 
green. The birds were gone. 

Only a Jivero whose instincts were numbed 
could fail to interpret that sudden silence and 



THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


5 


departure. But this man did fail. His eyes 
moved upward again, but in a vacant way. When 
they dropped they saw nothing new in the laby¬ 
rinth of tree and vine. Nor did the protruding 
ears hear a tiny rustle among the leaves beyond. 

For minutes the rustling continued—faint, 
elusive, less audible than the sough of lofty 
leaves moving in a breeze. Then it died. No 
other sound came save the far-off snarling roar 
of a cotomono monkey. The near-by bush 
seemed to hold no life. But the noisy birds did 
not return. 

Among the shadows where that rustle had 
sounded something moved. A bent, hunched 
thing, it was; a crouching thing that stole slowly, 
smoothly nearer to the devil-dreamer. Leaves 
which touched it slipped soundlessly from its 
bare skin. Little pools left by the daily rain 
gave no plash as the advancing feet passed 
through them. No twig crackled, no branch 
swished back from the creeping form. Yet it 
made no apparent effort to avoid noise, gave no 
glance at the footing or the surrounding growth. 
It moved with the instinctive stealth of the born 
jungle prowler, the utter silence of a drifting 
ghost. When it stopped, still crouching and 
peering through the leafy screen at the spell¬ 
bound murderer among the roots, it had given 
not the slightest token of its presence. 

For a long moment it stood there—a black¬ 
haired, light-skinned, maroon-clouted shadow 


6 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


among the shadows; a jungle man like the 
Jivero, yet altogether unlike him. The new¬ 
comer’s bare body appeared more clean of skin 
and of build; his hair was not long and unkempt, 
but cut straight around at the level of the ear 
tips. He looked more fit, more alert, more in¬ 
telligent than the killer beyond him. Yet his 
face, as he scanned the other, held a ferocity no 
less deadly than that of the shrinker of human 
heads. 

The menace of that narrow-eyed stare pene¬ 
trated to the inmost consciousness of the squat¬ 
ting savage. Where bird warning and bush 
warning had passed unheeded, the primordial 
perception of unseen danger inherited from 
countless jungle-dwelling ancestors now gripped 
his brain. The voice of the demon died out. 
The blank eyes focused on the bush. The dan¬ 
gling right hand lifted and moved again toward 
the blowgun. As his fingers curled around the 
weapon the Jivero lurched up on his feet. 

The leaves before him jumped, smitten by a 
swift-rising hand. A steel-tipped shaft poised, 
hissed forward. Before the Jivero could move 
—before he could even breathe—the steel tore 
through him. He reeled back—coughed once— 
hung limp, nailed to the tree. 

“Hnh!” grunted the man in the bush, his 
grim mouth stretching gloatingly. Then, turn¬ 
ing, he grunted again—a subdued, wordless 
sound which did not carry far, yet brought im- 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


7 


mediate response. The rustling recommenced, 
more loudly now. Through the tangle came 
other figures in file. The spearman stepped out, 
walked over to the transfixed head-hunter, and 
stood in the attitude of a showman about to 
exhibit some marvel. 

The bush screen parted again, forced open by 
rough hands. Into the little clear space emerged 
a hawk-faced, fierce-mustached Spaniard. After 
him trooped more Indians. 

One swift survey of the scene the white man 
took, noting the impaled savage, the blowgun 
which had fallen from the lifeless hand, the 
gourd with its remaining drug. With a tigerish 
pounce he caught up the calabash. An instant 
of sniffing, then he nodded and tossed it aside. 

“Is this all?” he jeered, jerking a thumb at 
the pierced figure against the tree trunk. “One, 
drunk on devil bark? A child could kill him.” 

The spearman’s face clouded like that of a 
boy who, expecting praise, has been ridiculed. 
But he answered, quietly: 

“All, king. But Jivero is Jivero.” 

A swift grin flashed over the Spanish face, 
like lightning across a thundercloud. 

“Hah! Well said!” he approved. “A Jivero 
is a Jivero, and we spare none. And, por Dios! 
he was not so drunk—he stood and would fight, 
hah? And you nailed him up. A good cast, 
hombre! No accursed shrinker of heads es¬ 
capes from a White One!” 


8 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

Now the spearman grinned proudly as he 
turned to withdraw his weapon from the grip 
of the wood. In the faces of the other light¬ 
skinned warriors his pride was mirrored. Had 
not this king of theirs, in praising him, praised 
them also? It was so. All eyes centered on 
the sinewy white, who looked back at them with 
half-affectionate, half-sardonic approbation. 

A formidable array they made, those jungle 
men, though not many of them could press into 
the small open space. Every one of them, from 
clean-cut hair to ground-gripping toes, was a 
natural athlete: lithe muscled, firm jawed, steady 
eyed, poised with the ready ease born of alert 
strength. And if their vigorous physiques alone 
had not warned of their fighting power, their 
weapons would have made the most truculent 
antagonists wary. Strong bows and big quivers 
of war arrows, heavy hardwood clubs, short 
throwing spears, and longer lances—these, 
deadly enough in themselves, were not all. 
Every second man wore, slung under the left 
arm by a diagonal bark strip from the right 
shoulder, a keen machete. Every third man 
carried in the same fashion a hide cartridge 
pouch, and, in his right hand, a big-bored car¬ 
bine. 

The longest gun in the little army was that 
of the sun-bronzed white man, little whiter than 
themselves. A full-sized, full-magazined re¬ 
peater, this was, and battered and worn as if 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


9 


by long service; in fact, it looked much older 
than the carbines, which also showed signs of 
considerable use. It hung in its owner’s fist as 
if it were an integral part of his arm; a deadly 
appendage which had been there for years, and 
without which he would feel crippled. If he 
was truly a king, he was a fighting ruler. And, 
king or not, there could be no doubt that he had 
long been a jungle denizen. His clothing proved 
that. 

Unlike his men, he wore shirt, belt, and 
stagged trousers. But the garments had never 
been fashioned in a town, nor had the cloth 
been woven from threads of cotton or wool. It 
was made from llanchama tree-bark and dyed 
purplish red with achote, as were the clouts of 
his followers; and the belt was no leather strap, 
but a braid of palm-fiber cords. He had neither 
hat nor boots. Utterly devoid of all insignia 
of regal rank—without even a crown of 
feathers—this must be a poor king. 

Yet his next movement showed him to be an 
overlord. He lifted an imperious hand, and 
out from the surrounding knot of men stepped 
one whose bearing proclaimed him a chiefj an 
older man than the Spaniard, yet one whose 
eyes showed calm respect for his junior. He 
halted and waited. 

“We are near,” asserted he of the hawk face. 
“This Jivero would not go far to take his 
drink.” 


10 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


The Indian nodded as if hearing something 
most obvious. He glanced up at a slanting sun 
ray; followed it down to where it rested on the 
trunk of a young tree; moved to it; laid a thumb 
on its upper edge, measured off a short space 
on the bark above it with a finger; looked 
steadily at his commander. 

“A short half hour/’ the latter translated. 
“Bueno! Then more Jiveros go howling to 
hell! Look now to the guns, capitan.” 

The chief turned and growled something at 
the gun-bearers. Each levered his breech bolt 
partly back, peered within the magazine at the 
ready top cartridge, clicked his gun shut. From 
farther back in the bush, like soft echoes, 
sounded the subdued clatter of other rifles 
opening and closing in the hands of unseen men. 

The spearman, who now had retrieved his 
wet javelin from the tree, walked stolidly past 
the Spaniard. The latter slapped him lightly 
on a bare shoulder. 

“Good scouting!” he approved. “You shall 
go on, flanking as before.” 

The scout’s chest swelled and his eyes 
gleamed again, but he spoke no word. Into the 
green tangle he slipped, soft footed. The 
others, with a final glance at the body huddled 
where it had dropped from the tree, fell into 
file and moved back into the labyrinth. In a 
few minutes only the Spaniard was left, gazing 
hard-faced at the thing his flanker had speared. 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND n 


“Hah!” he chuckled. “While you talked 
with your devil of death he let death come to 
you! Even a Jivero could laugh at that joke. 
I will tell your friends, if any still live after I— 
Por Dios! What is that?” 

Muffled by the intervening jungle, from some¬ 
where off at the left broke three gunshots. The 
listening man’s face twisted in sudden rage. He 
leaped forward. 

“The fools! Some have gone on and opened 
fire-” 

Three more explosions sounded in a swift 
rip. The infuriated commander halted as if 
petrified. 

“But no! Those are not our guns! Neither 
are they Jivero muskets-” 

The staccato reports burst into a ragged but 
steady crackle. With them merged a few dull 
black-powder barks and a noise like a savage 
chorus of hate. 

“Madre de Dios! Those are high-powered 
rifles! White men fight there!” 

A headlong crash into the bush, and he was 
gone. 




CHAPTER II 


FIGHTERS THREE 

B ACK to back, crouching between a couple 
of robust trees and facing outward, three 
white men fought doggedly and desperately 
against foes half seen amid the encompassing 
screen of leaves. 

They had poor targets—a bare brown arm 
hurling a spear; a glimmer of steel as a muzzle¬ 
loading rifle slid around a tree trunk; an arrow 
streaking from a clump of broad-leaved plan¬ 
tain; a dodging movement among a tangle of 
lianas. But they were taking heavy toll. 
Though badly outnumbered and totally sur¬ 
rounded, they shot with the grim coolness of 
veterans and the deadly accuracy of expert gun¬ 
men; and at every crack of their bolt-action 
rifles something fell heavily in the bushes. Each 
was shooting back and forth along the arc 
before him, and the three arcs combined to 
form a circle of leaden death. 

But the bullet-riddled enemy yielded no 
ground. The jungle seemed spawning fresh 
warriors to replace the fallen. New spears 
swished out of the green, new arrows whirred, 
12 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 13 

new poisoned darts snicked into the leaves, new 
yells of ferocity blended with the occasional 
whang of a musket. The trees between which 
the fighting trio had taken cover were furred 
with missiles. The fern foliage around them 
was drooping in torn tatters. The broad hats 
had been struck from their heads, revealing 
three shades of hair—black, blond, and vivid 
red. 

“Cripes!” gritted the red-headed one, rap¬ 
idly reloading his piece. “Got to dig up more 
shells, Looey! I’m ’most shot out. How ye 
fixed?” 

“Same way,” clipped the blond, firing as he 
spoke. “No time to open a can.” Crack! 
“Use your side-arm!” Crack! 

“Yeah— Git back there, ye dirty divil!” A 
shot terminated his growl. A fierce face top¬ 
pled back and was gone. 

“Ouch! Gun’s red hot!” complained the red 
man, meanwhile shifting his muzzle toward a 
disturbed bush clump. “Where’n hell’s all these 
guys come from?” He shot again. The bush 
shook violently, then stood still, a motionless 
bare foot protruding from its base. 

“That’s just where they come from, Tim,” 
dryly answered the tall black-bearded fighter,, 
reloading in his turn. “Merry! Nail this fel¬ 
low, quick!” 

He ducked as he spoke. A spear hurtled 
through the space where his face had been. 


i 4 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

The blond, obeying his order, snapped a bullet 
into a momentarily revealed coppery chest. 
Another savage collapsed. 

As the blackbeard threw his refilled gun to 
his shoulder a shrill yell from the outer bush 
rose high over the other battle howls. Another 
joined it, and another. Then out broke a vol¬ 
ume of ferocious shouts almost drowning the 
previous uproar. 

The tight-set jaws of the beleaguered three 
clamped harder. Through his teeth red Tim 
grated: “Here’s where we git it! They got 
reinforcements. We ain’t got a chance.” 

“Carry on!” snapped the blackbeard. 

“Aw, sure.” Tim’s gun spoke twice. “Till 
we’re clean snowed under. That won’t be long 
— Huh! My gosh! Cap, listen!” 

Through the hullabaloo beyond them smashed 
new gunshots. Rapidly they increased in speed 
and volume. 

“Repeaters!” shouted the blond. “Repeat¬ 
ing rifles—forty-fours—a young army of 
them!” As he spoke the rain of missiles pour¬ 
ing at them dwindled and died. The assailants, 
too, were listening to the advancing roar of 
gun-fire. For a moment the three white men 
poised like statues, their eyes widening in aston¬ 
ished half hope. Repeating rifles, fast coming 
nearer—could they possibly be guns of rescue? 

“Nope!” Tim answered the unspoken ques¬ 
tion. “This ain’t our lucky day, and we ain’t 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 15 

got no friends, anyways. Whoever’s cornin’ will 
jump us jest the same as these guys— Look 
out! They’re goin’ to mop up!” 

As if aroused by his gruff voice, the savages 
charged. 

Like leaping demons they came, reckless of 
the bullets which instantly tore into them. Over 
falling bodies bounded fiend-faced men with 
spear and club, determined to overwhelm and 
annihilate the dauntless but pitifully small knot 
of whites. Some of these also fell; others 
closed in. 

Up rose the three, dropping rifles, but draw¬ 
ing flat pistols. Still back to back, they hurled 
a terrific fire into the naked chests swarming at 
them—twenty-one crashing reports merging 
into one ripping roar. The ground around 
them became a shambles. 

Jamming together as they converged on their 
prey, the Indians fell before those devastating 
pistols as if collectively struck down by a thun¬ 
derbolt. Around the two arrow-studded trees 
rose a thigh-deep ring of dead. Upon it slipped 
and sprawled unwounded aborigines unable to 
hold a footing. Beyond it others halted, ap¬ 
palled and hesitating. In that second of respite 
the trio of die-hards whipped fresh clips from 
their belts and reloaded. And beyond them the 
ragged bang of the .44 repeaters steadily came 
nearer. 

Out crashed the pistol chorus again. The 


16 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


naked brutes rising on the heaped bodies 
flopped down and stayed down. Those just be¬ 
yond, flinching, falling, turned to flee. Shot in 
the back, half a score of them failed to reach 
cover. The remainder hurled themselves into 
the thicket and were gone. 

“Wow! Hot dog!” Tim yelled, hoarsely, 
his blue eyes darting all about. “They’ve took 
it on the run. Now who’s these other guys?” 

The approaching force was not yet in sight, 
but it was coming faster and evidently sweeping 
all before it. The blackbeard threw up his head 
and hurled a booming question into the red- 
spattered green. 

“Hola! Quien es? Who is it?” 

Back came the answer in a piercing yell which 
carried like a bugle call. 

“Jose Martinez, rey de Los Blancos—king of 
the White Ones! Quien es usted?” 

The three stood as if struck dumb. Slowly 
their heads turned and they stared into one 
another’s eyes. The firing had diminished to 
occasional scattered shots. From near at hand 
came sudden splashes, earthy thumps, rushing 
sounds among leaves, grunts and snarls of 
grappling antagonists. But within eyeshot of 
the two trees no man moved. 

“C-r-r-ripes!” marveled Tim. “Hozy Mar- 
teeny, our ol’ buddy. Whaddye know!” 

“Quien es?” came the sharp reiteration. 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 17 

The tallest, his bleak face suddenly aglow, 
shouted back: 

“McKay—Knowlton—Ryan! Over here!” 

“Quien? Valgame Dios! My old com¬ 
rades!” sounded an exultant yell. Running feet 
padded. Then into sight of the gunfighters 
loped the Spaniard whose scout had speared the 
head-hunter. 

To the eyes of strangers that figure erupting 
from the jungle would have been as grisly as 
that of a buccaneer attacking a town of the 
Spanish Main. Hair and mustachios abristle, 
face aflame with battle lust, shirt and hairy chest 
splashed with sinister stains, heavy gun gripped 
in one fist and red-smeared machete in the other, 
he made a dire picture; and the appearance of 
the half-dozen followers who broke- cover at 
his heels was hardly such as to inspire confi¬ 
dence in him or his intentions. Indians all, 
armed with spear and rifle, smeared with the 
blood of foemen or dripping from unheeded 
wounds of their own, hard jawed and slit eyed, 
they came on like merciless messengers of mas¬ 
sacre. But at sight of these grim fighters the 
waiting trio broke into a roar of welcome. 

“Hah! Es verdad! It is true!” yelled Jose, 
his teeth flashing. “My companeros of the 
days gone by! Bienvenido, camaradas—wel¬ 
come back! Sangre de Cristo! What a killing 
you have made here!” 

He halted outside the ring of dead, viewing 


18 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


in one astounded sweep of the eyes the execu¬ 
tion done by the pistols. The Indians at his 
heels also stopped, staring first at the slain, then 
at the three between the trees, then around as if 
seeking more white men. Finding none, they 
muttered to one another and gazed wide-eyed 
at the gunmen who had wrought such havoc. 

“Yeah! And now ye come hornin’ in and 
bustin’ up the game!” snorted Tim, his wide 
grin contradicting his growling tone. “Whyn’t 
ye lay off a li’l’ longer, ye ol’ crape-hanger, and 
leave us clean up right?” 

He clambered across the human barrier as he 
spoke, right hand outstretched. Dropping his 
gun, Jose darted his own right forward. Palm 
slapped palm and fists closed in bone-crunching 
grips of amity. 

“Pardon, Senor Tim,” laughed the rescuer. 
“But I did not know who you were, and my men 
must have exercise. Now that I have spoiled 
your game you can join in mine, if you like— 
I am on my way to play with some Jiveros just 
beyond here. Ah, Capitan McKay!” 

Wrenching his hand loose, he proffered it to 
the tall man, w r ho now had come out and was 
standing with soldierly erectness. A quick, 
hearty handshake, a tight-lipped smile, and Cap¬ 
tain McKay turned away unspeaking, his gray 
eyes searching the jungle and his pistol ready. 
The blond, slender Knowlton was the next and 


19 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

last to seize the powder-smutted hand of the 
king of the White Ones. 

“Jose, you’re the toughest-looking angel I 
ever clapped an eye on,” he declared, “but 
you’re an angel just the same. We were about 
shot out.” 

“You are the first who ever called me so 
sweet a name, Teniente,” grinned the other. 
“But you mean you have no more cartridges? 
That is bad.” 

“No—we have some—didn’t have time to 
open up the reserve. Got some here in a can- 
others in a cache up the Pastasa-” 

“You came down the Pastasa? Nombre de 
Dios! That is a journey for men! But where 
are your packers? Killed?” 

“Here’s hopin’ they are!” Tim broke in, 
vengefully. “They turned yeller—quit us cold, 
away upstream.” 

“Ah,” nodded Jose. “The old story. But 
come, I must move. Open your can quickly. 
Leave all else here. My men will return later.” 

The talk had been swift, each man keeping 
an ear open toward the fight, which seemed to 
be receding. Now Tim lunged over the bar¬ 
rier, shoved a couple of dead Jiveros aside, and 
lifted from the ground a heavy pack. Rapidly 
unstrapping it, he drew out a gallon kerosene 
tin, soldered air-tight, which he attacked with 
a machete, rising soon with hands full of flat 
pasteboard cartridge-boxes. Meanwhile Jose 



20 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


gave curt commands in some Indian tongue to 
the waiting half dozen aborigines, who glanced 
at Tim’s pack and at two others half buried 
between the trees, then nodded. 

“Here y’ are, Cap and Looey.” Tim cast his 
handful of boxes at the pair beyond, stooped, 
lifted the can and its remaining contents, and 
pitched it also at their feet. Gathering up the 
rifles, he floundered over to them. With fast¬ 
working fingers all reloaded their guns and 
replenished their depleted ammunition belts. 
The extra cartridges then remaining went into 
pockets. 

“All set. Where do we go from here?” de¬ 
manded the florid Irishman. 

“Follow,” curtly answered Jose, gun again in 
hand. At once he was off, his Indians close at 
his heels as before. The Americans loped in 
the rear, twitching their heavy belts to rest 
more comfortably across their hips. 

Through the bewildering maze of buttressed 
trees, dangling vines, and spreading fronds the 
short column advanced at its best speed; now 
swerving around a tree butt, now hurdling a 
down log, now stumbling over a contorted body 
nearly hidden in the undergrowth. The area of 
bullet-shredded leaves was left behind, but new 
corpses were met at frequent intervals—usually 
those of black-toothed Jiveros, but now and 
then that of a lighter-colored man of the jungle. 
The fight had swept on in a series of individual 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 21 


combats among the forest ambushes, and now it 
was centering on some place close ahead. Gun¬ 
fire sounded, but only in infrequent shots punc¬ 
tuating a snarling rumble of voices—an inarticu¬ 
late dissonance heavy with hatred. The enemy, 
scattered at first by the unexpected onslaught of 
Jose and his men, evidently had now drawn 
together and made a stand. 

And so it proved. Suddenly the little column 
emerged into a clearing, in the middle of which 
stood a big, pole-walled, palm-thatched house. 
Around this house raged a lethal melee. Here 
and there among the charred stumps studding 
the open space light men and brown men grap¬ 
pled in small knots, stabbing, throttling, tum¬ 
bling close locked on the ground; but the main 
fight was along the walls of the tribal domicile. 
Clubs rose and battered down; red-dripping 
spears flew; machetes gleamed as their owners 
thrust, dodged, slashed; rifles and muskets 
bludgeoned out brains or belched a few bullets 
at close range. The place was a whirlpool of 
battling naked men. 

“Bueno!” exulted Jose, after a keen look. 
“Aillu has not forgotten his plan, in spite of our 
fight back in the bush. He is a good capitan. 
Friend Tim, have you tobacco? I would 
smoke.” 

The Americans, seeking the best point to 
throw themselves into the fray, turned on him 


22 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


in astonishment. After his dash to reach the 
fight, he now stood like a mere spectator. 

“What’s stoppin’ ye? Cold feet?” demanded 
the outspoken Tim. 

Jose guffawed. 

“Not so. My feet are most warm. But we 
are not needed there. My men can handle the 
little matter—and, as I said, I would smoke.” 

He motioned to the six Indians who had 
attended him unceasingly, and who now stood 
tense as chained dogs. The movement was only 
a wave of the hand toward the fight, but the 
warriors grinned as if given priceless rewards. 
With a simultaneous leap they sprinted toward 
their foes, howling like wolves as they sped. 
A moment later they were merged in the mass. 

The three partners hesitated, watched the 
combat a moment longer, then relaxed. Jose 
had spoken truth. His followers had the upper 
hand. They had herded the Jiveros back 
against their own walls and were steadily cut¬ 
ting them down. 

“Marvel of marvels! Jose Martinez neg¬ 
lecting a chance to fight!” said Knowlton, fish¬ 
ing a tobacco pouch from a pocket and proffering 
it. “Never thought I’d live to see that. How 
come?” 

“I have learned wisdom in my old age,” 
chuckled the other. “I am not now Jose Marti¬ 
nez, Peruvian outlaw and lone bush tramp, with 
only myself to think of when I fight. I am 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 23 

el rey—King Jose, ruler of the White Ones of 
No Man’s Land—and I must stand off and 
watch while my captains battle.” 

“Faith, ye look it, I don’t think!” rumbled 
Tim. “Blood from hair to belt, ye are, and 
yer toad-stabber there is covered with it. Stand 
off and watch—huh! But what’s this king 
stuff? Straight goods?” 

“I am the king,” was the simple answer. 
Then, with a grin: “And yet I have not a match, 
and without a match I do not smoke.” 

McKay, without taking his eyes from the 
fighting, passed over a little box of matches. 
Jose, igniting the tobacco which he had rolled 
in a thin slip of bark, took a lungful of smoke 
and exhaled rapturously. For all his noncha¬ 
lance, however, he was watching the melee like 
a cat. 

For a few minutes nobody spoke. The strug¬ 
gling Indians heaved and struck, pitched out¬ 
ward or collapsed; the brown ones became 
fewer; the growling mob-voice gradually dimin¬ 
ished. At length the light warriors began walk¬ 
ing about in little knots, some limping, all 
looking for survivors to dispatch. Around the 
pole walls settled a quiet broken only by short 
questions and answers among the victors. 

“An easy victory,” coolly said King Jose. “I 
came with men enough to wipe out this whole 
nest of savages, but you had killed many before 
we arrived. That Capitan Aillu of mine has a 


>24 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

trick of surrounding which seldom fails—to at¬ 
tack with part of his men in front, more on the 
sides to close in behind-” 

“An encircling movement,” nodded McKay. 
“Good stuff if you have enough men. And 
those men of yours are bear-cats.” 

The Spaniard’s eyes glowed. 

“They are men,” he asserted. “But come, 
let us enter our captured city and take our spoils 
—the heads and the women.” He began mov¬ 
ing toward the house. 

“Heads? Women?” ejaculated Knowlton. 
“Good Lord! You haven’t taken up Jivero 
tricks, have you?” 

The other gave him a quick glance, then 
smiled a hard smile. 

“Come, senores, and you shall see,” was his 
answer. 

Looking queerly at him, the three silently 
followed. 


/ 



CHAPTER III 


MISSING 

W ITHIN the long house where, a few 
hours previously, the daily routine of a 
Jivero community had moved in its usual delib¬ 
erate course, alien conquerors now rested after 
battle. Jiveros still were there, but they squat¬ 
ted in dumb submission, apparently apathetic 
regarding their fate. They were women and 
children. No male Jivero of fighting age 
remained alive. 

In the middle of the big room three North 
Americans and a Spaniard sat side by side on a 
wide couch of bamboo strips, puffing at ciga¬ 
rettes and scowling at a tall roof pole. From 
that pole, hanging by long locks of hair, dangled 
a score of human heads. 

They were not such heads, however, as one 
might perhaps expect to see immediately after 
a no-quarter fight between savage tribes; not 
freshly severed trophies of victory. There had 
been no mutilation of their fallen enemies by 
the White Ones of Jose. These horrid things 
were the handiwork of the men who now lay 
dead outside—of the Jiveros themselves. 

25 


26 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


Once they had been the heads of crafty 
creatures which prowled the vast wilderness of 
El Oriente; they had scowled, laughed, yawned, 
torn asunder with filed teeth the flesh of bird 
or beast; they had held the brains directing the 
movements of the strong bodies beneath. Now 
they were uncanny masks, no larger than apples, 
their tiny eyes shut, their lips sewed with cotton 
cords which hung down like grisly white beards.* 
Within them were no mouths, no brains, no 
skulls. Little leering faces and hanks of hair—- 
nothing more. 

Somberly regarding them, the red and the 
blond man twitched their shoulders as if chilly. 
The faces of the two tall black-haired men were 
unreadable. 

“Urrrgh!” muttered Tim. “If ye hadn’t 
come ’long when ye did, Hozy, we might have 
looked like these things in—how long’s it 
take?” 

“About forty-eight hours, I think,” answered 
Jose, without looking at him. “The skull is 
taken out by slitting the scalp from neck to 
crown, and then the skin is sewed up and put 
into a cone-shaped pot of water. The water is 
heated almost to boiling, so that the head will 
cook without scalding. Then hot sand is put in 
at the neck hole, and at the same time the out¬ 
side is rubbed with smooth hot stones. As soon 
as the sand cools, more hot sand i£ put in. And 
so it goes on, the sanding and the smoothing 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 27 

and moving the head about, until it is shrunk 
evenly to the smallest size. Then it is smoked, 
and it is done. The diablos! A million curses 
on all their race!” 

He sprang up suddenly, hurling his cigarette 
to the ground. With long, swift strides he 
paced up and down, watched intently by his own 
men, his newly arrived friends, and his prison¬ 
ers. After a few minutes he sat down as 
abruptly as he had risen. 

“Got some friends of yours, maybe ?” sug¬ 
gested Knowlton. 

“Si! One friend who-” His teeth 

clicked shut. Presently he went on: “But no 
more of that now. Aiilu! Curac!” 

From the ranks of the men resting on the 
beds of their late foes, dressing wounds or talk¬ 
ing quietly among themselves, came two soft- 
striding warriors of muscular build and mature 
years. One was the chief with whom Jose had 
conversed during the halt at the tree of the 
devil-dreamer—a gaunt-cheeked, hard-jawed, 
deep-eyed man; the other, more chunky of build 
and broad of face, with a wide mouth lifted 
into a perpetual half smile by a long scar down 
one cheek. 

“Aiilu, chief of the White Ones of the Cura- 
ray side of my cordillera,” explained Jose, nod¬ 
ding toward the first, “and Curac, leader of Los 
Blancos of the Pastasa side. Each is a capitan, 
and a good one.” 



28 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


With no change of tone, he spoke briefly in 
the Indian tongue. Aillu returned to his men. 
Curac monotoned a dozen words, and a dozen 
fighters arose with spears in hand and went out. 
Curac himself advanced on the prisoners and^ 
grunted a few times. Women and children 
arose, filed through a small doorway in a cane 
partition behind them, and shut the door. 

“The men of Curac guard the outer door of 
the women’s quarters until midnight,” Jose 
went on. “Then the men of Aillu relieve them. 
In the morning we all march and this place goes 
up in smoke.” 

“What about the women?” curtly asked 
McKay. 

The Spaniard smiled grimly. 

“The women trouble you, ye 9 ? Learn, then, 
that they go to a better life than they have ever 
known. They go as slaves, but they never have 
been anything else-” 

“As slaves of whom?” McKay persisted. 

“Of me and my people, Capitan. And now 
that I think of it, I must no longer call you 
‘capitan,’—I use that name for Aillu and Curac 
and others. Did not the Senor Knowlton call 
you ‘Rod’ in other days?” 

“Yes. Name’s Roderick McKay.” 

“Rod—Rodereeck—Rodrigo. Senor Rod¬ 

rigo it shall be.” 

“Omit the ‘senor.’ ” 

“As you say,” laughed Jose. “But the 



THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 29 

women—they have been only slaves to murder¬ 
ers. Perhaps you do not know the Jivero wife 
custom? When a girl becomes of the mating 
age—that is to say, about twelve years—her 
father gives her as wife to some friend or makes 
some young man work several months for her. 
But the man who first gets her may not live 
long. If he has two or three strong, good- 
looking wives, some other Jivero kills him— 
yes, even one of his own neighbors, perhaps. 
Then the women are those of the new man 
until he also is killed. By the time she is old 
a woman may belong to six or more killers in 
turn, and see the heads of her dead mates 
shrunken like these.” He gestured toward the 
dangling masks, “Perhaps, since she has no 
love for her master in the beginning, she is glad 
to exchange him for a new one now and then,” 
he added, with a slight grin. “But, whether she 
likes him or not, she is only a slave.” 

“So you keep her a slave,” said Knowlton. 
His tone was matter-of-fact, but in it the other 
detected a caustic undernote which made him 
glance sidelong at the clear-cut blond profile. 

“Just so, setior,” was the cool rejoinder. 
“What else? Should I slaughter these women? 
Or turn them into the jungle to die? Or per¬ 
haps carry them to other Jiveros and say, ‘Here 
are new slaves for you; make them breed more 
murderous shrinkers of heads to destroy me and 
my White Ones’? Hah! Not I!” 


30 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

Knowlton flushed slightly, drew the last puff 
from his cigarette, and dropped the butt. 
Without reply, he ran his eyes again over the 
heads. 

“Wal, say, Hozy,” interposed Tim, “mebbe 
ye’re right, at that, though I don’t mind tellin’ 
ye this slave stuff o’ yourn don’t make no big 
hit with us. But about these here, now, Jivero 
heads—there ain’t no more round the house 
nowheres?” 

“These are all, Senor Tim. My men brought 
to this pole all they found. They are not in the 
habit of overlooking anything.” 

“What about them bark baskits hangin’ off 
the poles up above? What’s in them?” 

“Food, hung up to protect it from ants and 
other crawling things.” 

“Oh. And ye say these shrunk-up heads are 
like life? Ye could reckernize a feller ye 
knowed?” 

“You have said it.” 

The three American faces relaxed a little. 
Tim took a long breath. 

“Good ’nough. There ain’t no white man’s 
head here, then. Le’s lookit somethin’ else 
awhile. Say, these are a funny kind o’ bunks, 
now, ain’t they? I thought everybody round 
here slept in hammicks. Bet ye could sleep 
three men easy in every bunk.” 

The others cast perfunctory glances at the 
couch on which they sat—a lattice-work of bam- 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 31 

boo strips and interlaced cords, within a pole 
frame. 

“Six or more,” corrected Jose. “They sleep 
in a row, with feet on that pole rail out there, 
and a smoky fire under the legs to keep off the 
mosquitoes. You spoke of a white man’s head, 
amigo. Did you expect to find one here?” 

“Wal, no; we was afraid we might, that’s all. 
We hope we don’t find it in no such place as 
this here, but we—uh—we’re lookin’ round. 
It’s Dave Rand. Ye remember him.” 

There was a silence. Thoughtfully Jose 
picked up Knowlton’s tobacco pouch, lying be¬ 
side him, and made a new cigarette. For a time 
he puffed at it without speaking. 

“Rand,” he mused at length. “Rand, your 
friend and mine. I have not forgotten. 

“It was he who first brought you three into 
this part of the world. He had disappeared 
while traveling in Brazil, and you three came 
to find him. And you found him alive, but 
crazed by a bullet, among the cannibals of the 
Rio Javary, in Brazil. And you cured his crazi¬ 
ness by hitting him over the head with a gun— 
hah! many a time I have thought about that— 
and then we four brought him out to the Ama¬ 
zon, and you sailed away. 

“And then, a year later, the four of you came 
back to hunt gold. And I chanced to meet you 
at the mouth of the Tigre Yacu, where I too 
was bound on a gold hunt. And we went into 


32 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


the Cordillera del Pastasa and found our 
treasure. But it took a temblor—an earth¬ 
quake—to reveal it and to help us kill the 
jiveros who had swarmed in to take our heads. 
And Sehor Dave, always silent, but always 
seeing everything—how he fought those ac¬ 
cursed ones! He was caught among falling 
stones, too, and lived only by a miracle of luck. 
Has his luck failed, now that he has made a 
fortune?” 

He flashed a glance at the others, then looked 
at his cigarette. 

“We’re afraid so, Jose,” Knowlton admitted. 
“It’s like this: 

“We four got home all right, and after we 
whacked up our fortune into four equal parts 
we sort of scattered. Each of us had a different 
idea about what he wanted to do, and so each 
went his own way for a while, though we kept 
more or less in touch with one another. Rod 
here has some relatives in Scotland, so he went 
over to visit them, and then drifted down into 
Africa awhile. I wanted to see some of the big 
outdoor parts of the States and Canada where I 
hadn’t been, and I rambled all around, seeing 
them. Tim wanted to stay in New York, so he 
stayed, and hit a little hard luck. And while 


“Aw, tell it right,” morosely interjected Tim. 
“Hard luck? I was jest a dumb fool. I got an 
idee, Hozy, I was goin’ to be a fynanseer—a 



THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 33 

guy that invests his dough in stocks and bonds 
and such like and makes a lot more money and 
gits to be a wallopin’ big toad all round. And 
I went down in Wall Street and bought, and 
made some profit, and bought some more, and 
got real int’rested in the game. And then a guy 
that had been steerin’ me round says, why am 
I satisfied with small stuff—why not git into the 
game right and be a broker, with him for a 
pardner, me puttin’ up the dough and him run- 
nin’ the works, seein’ he knowed the game bet¬ 
ter ’n I did. And I fell for it. And it run along 
and things was goin’ swell, and then the bottom 
dropped out and he dropped out with it, and 
they ain’t found him yet. It was some pardner- 
ship, I’ll say—he was the broker and I was the 
broke.” 

Jose stared in a puzzled way. McKay, eyes 
twinkling, enlightened him. 

“Tim gambled and lost.” 

“Oh! Aha! A North American gambling 
game, yes? I do not know that game. And 
the other man cheated?” 

“I’ll say so! ’Tain’t so much losin’ yer money 
that hurts—it’s bein’ played for a sucker and 
knowin’ ye been rooked, and bein’ give’ the 
razz by everybody that’s been tumblin’ over 
themselves to be friends with ye. One day ye’re 
‘Mister Ryan, sir,’ and the next ye’re ‘that thick 
mick.’ Aw wal, it’s all in the game, I s’pose. 


34 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

But if I ever git holt o’ that pardner o’ 
mine-” 

He paused, his big hands curling into fists 
and his mouth becoming a thin line. Jose nod¬ 
ded and significantly slipped a finger across his 
jugular. 

“Aw, no! Ye can’t do it that way up there. 
Ye git sent to the chair if ye do, no matter how 
ornery the guy was. But I’ll jest show the gent 
a few liT tricks I learnt while we was buckin’ 
the Hindenburg line in France. Grrrumph!” 
With an inarticulate growl he subsided. 

Presently Knowlton resumed his interrupted 
narrative. 

“Well, as I was saying, while we were enjoy¬ 
ing ourselves in our various ways Dave was 
doing likewise, only in a different manner. 
He’d traveled so much in his younger days that 
he didn’t care about drifting around, so he 
stayed in New York. He got in with some sci¬ 
entific societies, and wrote a number of articles 
that created quite a commotion in those circles: 
facts about the South American Indians that 
nobody knew before, and about the psychologi¬ 
cal effects of jungle life on civilized man, and 
such things. And then he developed a hobby 
for ethnology—the study of human races and 
their customs, you know. That led him into the 
question of how these Jiveros shrink heads, and 
why they shrink them, and who the Jiveros 
really are, and so on. Something about those 



THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 35 

things is known in the States—some of these 
shrunken heads are in a museum in New York, 
along with a couple made by the Mundurucu 
Indians of the Rio Tapajoz, in Brazil, down the 
Amazon; the Mundurucu heads are not so good, 
by the way. But there’s a great deal more that 
isn’t known, and there’s even some dispute as 
to how the shrinking is done. The upshot of 
all this was that Dave decided to come in here 
and see for himself.” 

Jose slowly, silently shook his head. 

“That’s what we’re afraid of, too,” nodded 
Knowlton. “That he’ll never come back. He’s 
been gone a year now. He didn’t let us know 
—just packed up and went, in that quiet way of 
his. We were drifting around, as I’ve said, and 
we didn’t get together again until about three 
months ago. Then, when we tried to locate 
Dave for a little reunion dinner, we learned of 
what he’d done. We talked it over, and—here 
we are.” 

Again Jose contemplated his cigarette, which 
had gone out. 

“I see,” he said after a pause. “Where was 
Senor Dave last seen?” 

“At Ambato. He came in from the Pacific 
side, via Guayaquil. We followed the same 
route and found officials who said he had 
started down the Pastasa. Neither he nor his 
Quichua packers have come back. So we came 
down the Pastasa, too.” 


36 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

“And how did you reach this place?” 

“Here? Well, we railed it to Pelileo, end 
of the line; horsed it along the Pastasa canon 
nearly to Mera; legged it along the Puyo trail 
to Canelos, on the Rio Bobonaza. Couldn’t go 
straight down the Pastasa from Mera, of 
course, because nothing can go through the rap¬ 
ids there and live; so we had to make the detour 
via Canelos. Canelos is controlled by priests, 
and because we didn’t choose to tell all our 
business they decided we were gold-hunters and 
made things hard. Our Quichua packers quit 
us there in the night, and the padres blocked us 
from getting any local Indians. The only way 
we could even get a canoe was by seizing one. 
Had too much duffle, so we cached everything 
we couldn’t pack ourselves—left it on a hilltop 
about a day below Canelos. Then we came 
down the Bobonaza to the Pastasa. 

“Well, we’d heard that at the mouth of the 
Bobonaza was a varadei'o —a portage trail— 
that ran across to the Curaray. We didn’t 
know whether you were still around here or not, 
but we figured that if you were you’d be up 
along the Cordillera del Pastasa somewhere 
and we might find you by taking that trail; so 
we looked for it. But we didn’t find it. Is 
there one?” 

“Si. But unless one knows just where to look 
for it he may pass it twenty times without 
seeing it.” 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 37 

“Well, we missed it. So then we figured our 
best bet would be to cut west instead of east and 
try to hit the pueblo of Macas, on the Morona. 
The Riobamba folks told us some of the Jiveros 
sometimes traded at Macas, and that seemed 
likely to be the best place to get a line on Dave. 
As near as we could figure it out from the rotten 
map we’ve got, it was about a hundred miles 
air-line to the pueblo—meaning two hundred, 
the way you have to worm around down here. 
So we bucked into the bush yesterday morning, 
heading due west by compass. Then this after¬ 
noon we ran plumb into this Jivero gang. You 
know the rest.” 

His matter-of-fact recital brought an appre¬ 
ciative grin to the brooding face of the jungle¬ 
roving commander of Los Blancos. 

“You speak of it as nothing,” he chuckled. 
“Few men would have dared to come on after 
being deserted by their Indians—few would 
have dared even to start down the Pastasa! 
And of those few almost none would have at¬ 
tempted to cross this Cordillera de Upanos into 
the Morona country, where the hunters of heads 
let no man pass. That town of Macas, of 
which you speak—just across the river from 
that place, three hundred years ago, was the 
fine Spanish city of Sevilla de Oro. What is 
Sevilla de Oro now? A name—a tale—nothing 
more! The Jiveros stormed it—destroyed it 
and all its men—carried away the wives and 


38 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

babes of those Spaniards and made Jiveros of 
them. And from that day to this no white man 
may go through the country of the rivers 
Morona or Santiago or Pastasa. You know it 
well. Yet you try to do that which cannot be 
done—for nothing but to find a lost comrade.” 

“Well, we told you when we last saw you 
that w r e might come back some day looking for 
excitement,” the blond man hastily retorted, as 
if not relishing an accusation of sentiment. 
“Life up home is so blooming civilized and 
lawridden that it palls on a fellow sometimes.” 

“But you would not have come unless Senor 
Dave had come.” 

“Maybe not. Not just now, anyhow. You’ve 
heard nothing about him?” 

Jose did not answer at once. Then his reply 
was: 

“I have not once heard his name since he and 
you left me on the Tigre Yacu.” 

With that he abruptly arose, and as abruptly 
changed the subject. 

“I have hunger. Let us eat of the fbod which 
our Jivero hosts so kindly gathered for us. 
Curac!” 

Curac came, received orders, went to the 
women’s door and threw it open. In response 
to his gruff grunts women stolidly entered, 
freshened fires, and began preparing meals from 
the contents of the rafter-hung baskets. 

At that moment one of the guards came 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 39 

through the outer doorway and cat-footed up to 
his commander-in-chief. A few words passed. 
Then, preceded by the warrior, Jose went 
outside. 

The eyes of the Americans dwelt for a grave 
interval on the little heads which had once been 
those of men; then they turned to one another. 

“Hozy acts funny. Dang funny!” rumbled 
Tim. 

Short nods agreed, 
the heads. 


Then all stared again at 


CHAPTER IV 


THE PRIESTESS OF PIATZO 

B EFORE the silent three loomed a spear¬ 
bearing warrior—a tall young fellow who 
spoke no word, but whose clear eyes looked 
steadily into theirs. McKay lifted his brows. 
With a wave of the free hand the newcomer 
gestured toward the entrance. 

“El rey?” queried Knowlton. 

A nod was the answer. Without waiting, the 
man turned and swung doorward. The Ameri¬ 
cans rose and followed him outside. 

Down one wall the guide led them, halting 
at a doorway before which stood the guards 
watching the women. There, without entering, 
he gestured toward the interior. The three 
glanced inside, saw only dimness, and looked 
back at the Indian in some perplexity. Again 
he motioned them within. 

“Looks as if we were invited into the harem,” 
commented Knowlton. “Here goes, anyway.” 
And he sauntered through the small opening. 
At once, from somewhere beyond, sounded the 
voice of Jose. 

“Enter, comrades. The fool should have 
brought you through the partition, instead of 
40 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


4i 


around the house; but an Indian follows his 
habits unless told otherwise. Come and see a 
Jivero prize more handsome than those devil 
heads. n 

Trooping inward, they saw him standing near 
a tiny fire. Beyond, statuesque and still, stood 
a woman alone. Farther back, sullen and silent, 
was gathered a group of Jivero women, snakily 
watching the pair near the flame. 

“Wow! Some pippin!” muttered Tim, as his 
eyes adjusted themselves to the subdued light. 
“Leave it to Hozy to find gold in a mud-hole! 
He never misses.” 

By comparison with the others of her sex, the 
lone woman, softly illumined by the fire glow, 
seemed fair indeed. Not only was she far 
lighter than they, but her oval face was more 
clear-cut and much more intelligent than their 
heavy visages. Her figure, too, though partly 
concealed by a simple sleeveless gown caught 
together over the right shoulder, was taller and 
more slender than their stocky frames. In her 
poise was an unconscious dignity, a suggestion 
of self-reliance and aloofness, markedly at vari¬ 
ance w 7 ith the slouching attitudes of the unkempt 
females behind her. This was no stolid Jivero 
woman, accustomed since girlhood to being 
merely the creature of one murderer after 
another. 

As the battle-stained North Americans paused 
beside Jose and stared at her, she glanced from 


42 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

man to man with a swift sweep of the eyes that 
seemed to see all. A fleeting gleam of interest 
lit up her face and was as quickly gone. Then 
her dark eyes dwelt again on Jose, and, with the 
same calm poise, she seemed to await speech. 

“More of the spoils of war, King?” dryly 
asked Knowlton. 

“Something of the sort,” nodded Jose. “A 
most unexpected treasure to find in such a place 
as this, yes? And now that we have her, what 
shall we do with her? It is a pity that I already 
have nine wives, who probably would kill her if 
I made her the tenth—for she is not of their 
family or their tribe, and they are jealous of 
outsiders. But you, my friends, have not even 
one wife among you. Shall I present her to 
you? Or will you draw lots to see who shall 
have her?” 

McKay frowned slightly. Knowlton, after a 
quizzical glance, smiled as if at an obvious jest. 
Tim alone felt called on to answer. 

“If we didn’t know ye so well, ye danged ol’ 
pirate, we might think ye meant it. And ye 
know us well enough to know we fight shy o’ 
women. Women was only invented to git men 
into trouble, anyways, and us three can find 
plenty o’ trouble without help. But say, this 
here liT lady is sure easy to look at. If she 
ain’t white she’s so near it I can’t see the differ¬ 
ence. Who is she?” 

“She says her name is Nune, and that she is 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 43 

Indian. Yet she speaks Spanish very well and I 
think her blood is nearly pure Spanish. She is a 
prisoner, just brought from the country of the 
Huambizas, away to the southwest, where a war 
party from this place has just been on a raid. 
The Huambizas, as you perhaps know, are the 
fiercest tribe of all the Jivero nation, and the 
men from here had bad fortune in attacking 
them—they brought back only three heads and 
this one woman. That may be the reason why 
they were so vicious in fighting you to-day, 
though no Jivero needs a reason to be murder- 
mad. I have learned nothing more from her— 
she thinks before she speaks, and then says little. 
But later she will find time to talk. She marches 
with us to-morrow, like the rest.” 

To the woman he said: “Stay here. Do not 
try to escape in the night. My men watch.” 

She made no reply; only regarded him 
steadily. He turned and walked toward the 
partition. Tim and Knowlton lounged after 
him. Then McKay spoke. 

“Better separate her from the other women 
for the night, Jose.” 

The Spaniard whirled, shot a glance at the 
tall Scot, and followed his gaze to the Jivero 
women. Their lowering expressions boded no 
good. 

“Ah! Si, I think you have it right. Before 
morning she might become silent forever. 
Nune!” 


44 THE KING OF NO MAN'S LAND 

At his imperative gesture she moved obedi¬ 
ently forward—still mute, still regarding her 
new masters with unperturbed serenity, and 
seeming to glide rather than to walk. The 
Jivero women, standing like wooden figures,, 
watched in sour silence. Jose resumed his way 
doorward, the girl drifting behind him with the 
same smooth grace. The North Americans 
trailed after her. 

“Gee, there’s real class to the kid,” Tim ad¬ 
mired. “Git the set o’ that head, will ye? Car¬ 
ries herself like a million dollars. I’ve seen, 
many a dame on Fifth Av’noo that could take 
lessons in walkin’ from this here li’l’ wild 
woman. Wha’d ye say her name was, Kink? 
Noony?” 

The girl’s head turned, and her deep eyes 
looked inquiringly into Tim’s blue ones. Those 
Irish eyes twinkled straight back at her, and on 
the wide red-bearded mouth grew a contagious 
smile. For an instant she seemed to search his 
mind. Then a tiny smile flitted across her own 
lips, and she faced forward again. 

“Nune,” corrected Jose, without glancing 
back. 

“Noonay? Noonay. Kind o’ musical, at 
that. I like it.” 

“He’s off again, Rod,” Knowlton muttered, 
with pretended secrecy. “After those wise 
cracks he just made about women, one smiles 
at him and he falls like a ton of coal.” 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 45 

“Grrrumph !” responded Tim. “Don’t git 
jealous, Looey. Mebbe she’ll smile at you too 
bimeby. And about them wise cracks—I’ve 
took another look since then. And about me 
failin’—I’ve fell before, but I always lit on me 
feet.” 

Wherewith he drowned all retorts by howling 
at the top of his voice: 

“Me wi-yuld I-yuh-rish ro-hose! 

The swee-test flow’r that gro-hows! 

Ye kin search ev’ry-whay-uhr 
But none kin com-pay-uhr 
With me wi-i-i- 


“Ugh! Glug-glug-oof!” 

The bawl was cut short by Knowlton’s arm, 
thrust under the songster’s jaw and clamped 
tight with choking force. Gurgling, wheezing, 
Tim lurched through the doorway into the men’s 
room, trying to heave his blond partner over 
his head. Failing, he clutched the strangling 
forearm with both big lists and wrenched it 
away. 

“Let the rest of it die, or else take it out 
and sing it to the other howling monkeys!” com¬ 
manded his silencer. “That voice of yours 
sounds like a saw going through a pine knot, 
and we’ve had enough agony for one day. Be¬ 
sides, you’re scaring your new girl.” 

Tim, about to launch a belligerent reply, 
gulped and glanced at Nune. Around the 
room, weary warriors had started up at the 


46 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

commotion and stood poised, some grasping 
spears. But Tim saw only the girl, who was 
staring at him. Whatever he might have in¬ 
tended to say or do was knocked out of his mind 
by two words from her. 

“Esta loco?” she quietly asked Jose. “He 
is crazy?” 

“Si!” instantly responded the satirical con¬ 
queror. “He has a demon.” 

The effect of the jest was most unexpected. 
Knowlton and McKay, as was natural, chuckled 
at Tim’s black scowl toward Jose, and the king 
cackled over his own joke. But Nune neither 
smiled nor shrank away in superstitious fear. 
Her left hand slipped within the robe drawn 
diagonally across her bosom; came out again, 
and poised before her lips. In her fingers now 
shone a small gold cross. 

While smiles faded and eyes opened, she 
moved slowly toward Tim, her gaze dwelling 
steadfastly on him. In tones low but resonant 
she murmured words which meant nothing to 
the white men, yet which conveyed the solemnity 
of an exorcism. Utter silence gripped the 
house, the white men standing motionless, the 
fierce warriors seeming to hold their breath, the 
brown women staring dumbly at this new thing. 
And Nune, her clear face and deep eyes alight 
with lofty purpose, came to a pause within arm’s 
length of the red-headed man and became silent 
in her turn. For a long minute the tense still- 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 47 

ness held. Then she drifted back from him; 
the gold cross slipped within her robe and was 
gone, and she said, simply, in Spanish: 

“You are well.” 

At that moment, somewhere in the near-by 
jungle, out broke the discordant roars of a 
howling monkey—as if the savage wilderness 
were voicing derision of human faiths. Tim 
blinked, rubbed a hand across his eyes, and 
stared again at Nune. A hum of muttered 
words rose from the warriors. The white men 
relaxed and watched the girl glide back to her 
former place near Jose. 

“Weill” exclaimed Knowlton. “What sort 
of hocuspocus do you call that?” 

“Grrrumph! ’Tain’t no hocuspocus, ye igno¬ 
rant Protestant,” retorted Tim, still eying the 
girl. “This here Hozy—the grinnin’ baboon— 
told her I had a divil, and she took it serious 
and tried to drive it out o’ me. She must be a 
v/oman priest or somethin’.” 

“Your pardon, friend Tim, but it was not I 
who made her think you mad,” Jose sardoni¬ 
cally corrected. “It was yourself, with that 
fearful howl of yours. And, por Dios! if it is 
not a demon that forces you to yell in that way, 
I do not know what it is. My men here were 
almost ready to stab you!” 

“For which I don’t blame them,” affirmed 
McKay. 

Tim snorted, but said no more. As the four 


4 8 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

moved to the spot where their delayed meal 
awaited them, all studied Nune with new curi¬ 
osity but without questions. Further talk could 
wait until sharp appetites were appeased. Be¬ 
hind them, still dutifully following as she had 
been bidden, the strange girl came, watching the 
muscular man ^vhose “demon” she had just 
expelled. 

Where they had recently sat a new fire now 
burned, and beside it stood the scarred chief, 
Curac, directing the labors of several woman 
prisoners as efficiently as if the meal of his king 
w r ere as important as a battle. Game, freshly 
killed by the now-dead Jivero men, had been 
collected from various parts of the tribe house 
and now was broiling; fruits had been brought, 
and great clay jars of water stood ready. With 
one accord the whites bathed, and with keen 
relish they attacked the viands. Jose, by a 
wordless gesture, indicated that Nune was to 
share in the feast, and, squatting with the lithe 
ease of a true Indian, she ate eagerly. From 
time to time her eyes encountered Tim’s, but 
now they regarded him as impersonally as any 
of his mates. 

When the meal was ended, night had come. 
The packs of the Americans had been brought 
in and unobtrusively deposited near them. 
Curac had sent men to relieve the guards at the 
women’s entrance, and posted others at the 
men’s door as night sentries. The serving- 


THE KING OF NO MAN'S LAND 49 

women were banished to their quarters, and, in 
all the room occupied by the fighters, no woman 
remained save Nune. Through the smoke of a 
new cigarette Jose quizzically regarded her. 

“Let me see your cross,” he commanded. 

She hesitated, searching his eyes. Then she 
drew out the gold symbol, but did not remove 
its slender cord from around her neck, Jose 
reached, took it—not irreverently—in his palm, 
weighed and scrutinized it, and gave it back to 
her. 

“Pure gold,” he judged, “and made in a rough 
clay mold by one not skilled at such work.” 
Then, in Spanish, “From what place did you 
obtain this?” 

She made no reply. 

“Answer!” snapped her inquisitor. “Answer, 
or I give you as slave to—to these three.” He. 
jerked his head toward the bearded foreigners. 

“Aw, say, Hozy, give the kid a chance-” 

began Tim. But Nune interrupted him. Ris¬ 
ing, she spoke, calmly as ever. 

“If Piatzo wills that Nune be a slave, it is 
well.” 

“Si?” jeered Jose. “And why should Piatzo 
care for what happens to you?” 

“Nune is the servant of Piatzo. Unless 
Piatzo so wills, no man nor beast can harm 
her.” 

The king of the White Ones sat silent, draw¬ 
ing again at his cigarette. At a word from him, 



50 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

those warriors of his would have speared her 
without compunction. But he did not speak any 
such word. He only eyed her shrewdly. Then 
he answered: 

“Bien. Soon Piatzo will command you to 
speak and tell me all. Until that time you shall 
go safely and be protected from all evil. Now 
rest through the night on that bed.” He 
pointed to a bamboo couch just beyond. 

“It is well.” She turned, lay down on the 
designated couch, and was still. 

“Oh-ho!” yawned Jose, stretching himself. 
“Tengo sueno—I am sleepy. It has been a long 
day. Good night, friends.” 

“Wait a minute,” remonstrated Knowlton. 
“What does ail this mean? Who’s Piatzo, and 
so on?” 

“Piatzo is the Great Father—Dios—God. 
Tim had it right: this woman is a priestess, 
though I never before knew of such a one. She 
does not feel like talking now, and so she 
believes Piatzo does not will her to talk—and 
she would not talk even if tortured. So we 
should be fools to waste more time on her to¬ 
night. When she is moved to speak freely—as 
she probably will when she becomes better ac¬ 
quainted with us—I think we shall learn much.” 

He yawned again and curled up on his couch. 
The others finished their smokes and did like¬ 
wise. Silence, broken from time to time only by 
the quiet freshening of the little mosquito 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 51 

smudges glowing here and there, settled on the 
house which last night had sheltered murderous 
savages, to-night protected their conquerors and 
the strange priestess of Piatzo, and to-morrow 
would vanish from the face of the earth. 


CHAPTER V 


JUNGLE JUSTICE 

I N the misty half light of a new dawn men 
moved slowly along the outer wall of the 
tribe house, piling wood. Day had not yet 
come; in fact, the surrounding jungle still was 
the abode of dense gloom, and even in the 
clearing all was vague. But the silent warriors 
laying those piles moved as easily as if under a 
brilliant sun, and with a sureness indicating that 
they had done such work before. These were 
the men of Aillu—the last relief of the night 
watch, now finishing their tour of duty by pre¬ 
paring to destroy the house which they had 
guarded. 

At half a score of places they built up those 
slanting heaps of light, tindery dry stuff, reach¬ 
ing to the palm thatch. Meanwhile, within the 
house, other warriors lounged and watched the 
prisoners revive the cooking-fires and make 
ready for the morning meal. In the center of 
the room, their king and his friends likewise sat 
at ease, beneath the pole on which dangled the 
little leering heads. Four young women were 
sluggishly at work at the royal fire. 

52 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


53 


“Wal, Cap,” yawned Tim, “it’s movin’-day 
again, as usual. Where do we go from here?” 

McKay’s eyes lifted to the heads, then swung 
to Jose. 

“See here, Jose,” he said, curtly. “We’re 
here to find Dave. You know something and 
you’re holding back. Is he dead or alive?” 

The other met his gaze defiantly. 

“I do not know.” 

A moment’s silence. McKay’s gray scrutiny 
probed the brown eyes. Not a lash flickered. 

“If you don’t know, what do you suspect?” 

The Spaniard shrugged. 

“Suspicions are not knowledge. I may sus¬ 
pect many things, and all of them may be far 
from the truth. In other years I acted often 
on what I suspected, without waiting to know, 
and I made mistakes. Now that I have more 
ways of gathering knowledge, I do not trust so 
readily in suspicions.” 

“Which doesn’t answer my question.” 

“True. And, with your pardon, I shall not 
answer it until any suspicion which I now may 
have shall become more strong.” For no ap¬ 
parent reason he glanced at Nune, who was 
watching the colloquy. “Until that time—and 
it may not be long—I shall be much honored if 
you will visit my little camp in the eastern hills. 
I return there to-day.” 

The three frowned thoughtfully. McKay, in 
fact, scowled as if angered by the other’s eva~ 


54 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

sions. Then Knowlton said: “We’d sure like to 
do that, old-timer, and we will—when we’ve 
located Dave. But right now-” 

“I understand, amigo,” smiled Jose. “Yet 
are you not foolish? Remember that you know 
nothing of where Senor Dave is; that there is no 
good reason to suppose him to be at Macas; 
that if you three go on alone you will almost 
certainly meet with more such men as you met 
yesterday; and that you cannot forever go blun¬ 
dering about this region and winning fights. 

“At my camp we may all learn much more 
quickly what we wish to know, and then we can 
act with sense and force. I cannot go farther 
westward now, because I am not equipped for a 
long trail; this raid to this place was a personal 
matter, and now that my purpose is fulfilled I 
go back. Later—perhaps very soon—we all 
may come westward again and succeed. I know 
that when you three have once set your faces 
forward you go on in spite of death and the 
devil, but this time you would be fools to refuse 
to turn back.” 

“True enough. We would,” conceded Mc¬ 
Kay. “But that wouldn’t stop us from going 
ahead if we had anything to go on. Look here, 
Jose. This ‘personal matter’ of yours had 
nothing to do with Dave?” 

“Not at all. Some of my scouts who came 
here on a spying trip found the head of an old 
friend of mine—a Spaniard of Iquitos.” His 



THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 55 

brow darkened as he glanced at the diabolical 
dolls on the pole. “A real friend—a true friend 
—the only friend of my own race I have ever 
known since I fled from Peru. How he came 
to die in this place I do not know. But my men 
stole the head and brought it to me, and I came 
here to settle the score of my friend. It is well 
paid. Now, as I was saying, you will come and 
visit me. Let us eat and go.” 

He gestured to one of the women. She be¬ 
gan slopping portions of warmed-up stew—left 
over from the night meal—into clay bowls. 
The Northerners, who had watched him sharply 
while he explained his presence at this place, 
relaxed. 

“Faith !” chuckled Tim. “Don’t the ol’ scala¬ 
wag put on the dog, though! ‘Ye’ll do this,’ 
says he, and us hard-boiled guys jest do it. Aw, 
wal, Hozy, ye’re dead right. We’ll likely git 
ahead quicker by walkin’ backwards awhile— 
Huh? What ye say, Noony?” 

Nune had swiftly risen and caught his hand, 
into which one of the servants had passed a 
bowl. 

“Cuidado! Take care!” she warned. Then, 
turning to Jose, “It is well to let these eat first.” 
With the words she gestured toward the Jivero 
cooks. 

“Ah! Si?” The Spaniard’s face darkened 
again. “You speak well. We shall see.” 

Harshly then he ground out several Indian 


56 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

words at the nearest woman, at the same time 
shoving toward her a bowl which she had 
handed to him. The words apparently were 
unintelligible to her, but his hard face and his 
action made words unnecessary. Fear glinted 
in her shallow eyes. She took a backward step. 

Jose shot to full height, seized her shoulder, 
brought the bowl to her lips. With an animal¬ 
like moan, she clamped her mouth tight and 
writhed to break free. Stark terror now was 
stamped on every feature. 

“So!” hissed Jose. Fie hurled the dish to the 
hard-packed earth, where it smashed. “Aillu!” 

Aillu appeared as if at one bound. Flalf a 
dozen alert warriors followed him. A wrathful 
command from Jose, a gruff grunt from Aillu, 
and the women were dragged aside. 

“What’s the row?” demanded Knowlton. 

“These snake-women have poisoned our 
food!” Jose snapped. “The toads! By all 
jungle law I should kill the four of them at 
once. But I am too much of a fool. Yet there 
are other punishments. Flah! Yes. I shall 
reward them fittingly within the hour.” His 
teeth flashed in a mirthless grin. Then, turning 
to the girl, he added in a different tone, “Nune, 
how did you know?” 

“They brought dark roots hidden in their 
hands,” she quietly informed him. “They 
dropped them into the pot. You talked and did 
not see.” 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


57 


“We were blind fools,” he acknowledged. 
“And we owe you a reward. What thing do 
you most desire ?” 

“Nune would return to her own people.” 

“Ah. But the way is long and you are alone.” 

“It does not matter.” 

“You would not live to make the journey, 
girl.” ^ 

“With the hand of Piatzo to lead me I should 
live.” 

“Hm!” Jose cogitated, watching her. Then 
he nodded shortly. “You shall have your wish. 
You shall return to your own people. But first 
you shall march with us a few days toward the 
rising sun.” 

“It is well.” 

She sank back on her couch, letting her eyes 
drift from man to man, then serenely gazing 
beyond them. Jose picked up a fagot and 
shoved the pot from the fire, overturning it. 
After poking a minute among the spilled chunks 
of meat and yuca, he grunted and lifted a small 
brownish thing resembling a wet roll of tobacco. 

“She speaks truth,” he said. “Here is one 
poison root. Comrades, shall we make a new 
meal here, or-” 

“Not me, by cripes!” vowed Tim. “I lost 
me appetite. Le’s hit the trail and kill some¬ 
thin’ clean to eat. This here dump goes against 
me stummick.” 



58 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

“Same here,” seconded Knowlton. McKay 
nodded, adding, “Your men all right?” 

Jose swiftly scanned the place. 

“I think so. But-—” Raising his voice, he 

rapped out a command. Men who were eating 
stopped. Others, about to begin, shoved their 
food from them. Another curt order, and all 
began picking up weapons. 

“We go,” added Jose. “I myself am no 
longer hungry. We shall eat on the trail. No, 
do not burden yourselves with your packs. Our 
prisoners are as strong as men and they shall 
do men’s work—to make them forget poisonous 
thoughts. Carry only your guns.” 

A few more words to Aillu, and that satur¬ 
nine chieftain strode to the doorway leading to 
the women’s quarters. In a couple of minutes 
he was back with six stockily built women, who 
brought with them large circular baskets to 
which were attached broad bark head-straps. 
Among these six was divided the equipment of 
the three North Americans; and when the bas¬ 
kets were loaded the women slung them on their 
backs with an ease bespeaking long usage to 
weightier burdens. Other women followed, 
some laden with similar baskets containing food, 
others carrying babies, and still others with 
nothing at all. Herded by the warriors, they 
filed through the outer entrance. Last in line, 
and separated from the rest by a special guard 



THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND. 59 

of the men of Aillu, passed the four who had 
dropped the poison roots into the pot. 

“We go,” repeated Jose, picking up his rifle. 
Then, glancing for the last time at the little 
heads clustered on the pole: “Adios, you who 
were men!” And he turned his back on them 
and swung doorward. 

Outside, the sun now was shooting long rays 
athwart the clearing. Around the house already 
stood men holding torches taken from the fires. 
Jose glanced about and spoke one word: 

“Burn!” 

He walked away among the stumps, heading 
toward the sun. The human herd moved with 
him, the North Americans alone looking back. 
They saw the fire-bearers kindle the piles they 
had placed; saw the flames crawl rapidly to the 
caves, smolder in the damp thatch, and begin 
to creep upward and aside. Then, stumbling 
over roots or bumping against stumps, they had 
to watch their footing. 

At the edge of the trees all paused. Jose 
keenly surveyed the doomed house and nodded. 
Under a growing cloud of black smoke the 
flames now were eating swiftly toward the peak 
from all sides of the structure, drying out the 
thick leaf layers and converting them into tinder. 
In a few more minutes the place would be a 
roaring furnace. 

“Bueno! And now to reward our gentle 
friends who so love the brown roots. You have 


6o THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


wondered, amigos, what I would do with them ? 
You shall see, and see also how queer is the 
mind of a woman. Their punishment is to do 
only what they most wanted to do—to remain 
here.” 

At his command the guilty four were brought 
to him. Briefly, harshly, he spoke in a jargon 
unknown to the Northerners. Curac, standing 
beside him, translated in a growling tone. A 
minute passed while the minds of the women 
grasped his meaning. Then their faces turned 
gloomy. Gloom became fear. One spoke, 
thrusting her chin toward the others who bore 
packs, while her tone became a whine. A curt 
refusal from Jose stopped her. A few more 
incisive words, another translation by Curac, 
and the four shrank back and walked miserably 
away. 

“You see, amigos. They now wish to be 
slaves, to go with the other women, not to be 
left alone. Though they tried to poison us, I 
do not kill them, nor even whip them. Yet they 
are not satisfied. It is true that they are left 
without home, without men, without weapons, 
to await whatever may happen to them; but they 
have their plantation to give them food, and 
liberty to do whatever they will—except to 
follow us. And because they cannot follow us 
they are not content.” 

Knowlton eyed him and glanced at the four 
condemned to abandonment. 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 61 


“Well, but here, Jose: what will become of 
them?” 

“How do I know? That is for the jungle to 
decide. Perhaps, in time, Jivero men will 
chance on them and give them new slavery; 
perhaps some other fate will come to them. I 
have nothing to do with that. I go, and leave 
them free and well and strong. I only tell them 
that they must not follow, and that if they 
do they will be dealt with according to their 
own law—the Jivero law for women who dis¬ 
obey their masters.” 

“And what’s that?” demanded McKay. 

“A woman who fights, or who refuses to go 
with a new master, dies the death of a man; 
and her head is shrunk like that of a man. A 
woman who tricks her master for another man 
has a spear run through her and is spiked to 
the earth. There are other little penalties, too, 
for disobedience—such as slowly chopping out 
ail the hair by the roots—which are not pleas¬ 
ant. No, they will not follow us. They know 
their law.” 

“Seems a bit rough to leave them at the 
mercy of the jungle, though,” Knowlton grum¬ 
bled. “Why not take them along, now that 
you’ve scared them well?” 

“Ho! And have it known to all my people 
that an attempt to poison me and my comrades 
went unpunished? Por Dios! What is that 
but an invitation to all the -world to kill me? 


62 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

You have been too long away from the jungle, 
friend, and grown soft. Let no more be said. 
We go.” 

He looked again at the house, now bursting 
into complete conflagration, signaled to his cap¬ 
tains, and turned away from Jivero stronghold 
and Jivero assassins. Headed by a handful of 
scouts, the line began to file into the forest, 
Aillu and his men in the vanguard, the prisoners 
following, and the force of Curac falling in 
after them. Jose waited. 

“Wal, speakin’ for Timmy Ryan,” the red¬ 
headed man vouchsafed, “the divil can fly away 
with anybody that tries poisonin’ me, whether 
it’s man, woman, or child. The only difference 
between them women and four snakes is in their 
shape, and I never seen you guys ask a snake 
whether ’twas a he or a she before ye killed it. 
Me, I think Hozy’s lettin’ ’em down easy. 
Come on, le’s go. No packs or nothin’ to carry 
to-day, and a young army o’ hard guys to break 
trail for us—this is what I call reg’lar travelin’. 
if ye ask me. Snap into it! Hay foot, straw 
foot— Huh! My gosh, fellers, look who’s 
here!” 

Nune, with the naive nonchalance of a true 
jungle woman, was preparing herself for a long 
trail. She had slipped out of her short robe 
and, with a few swift folds, a roll, and a couple 
of knots, she transformed it into a compact little 
bundle with two loops, through which she deftly 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 63 

slid her arms. A moment more, and she stood 
ready, the little roll lying snugly behind her 
shoulders in knapsack fashion, her lithe, slender 
figure clad only in a tight tanga, or hip girdle, 
with the gold cross nestling between her virginal 
breasts—a dryad of the jungle, limned clear and 
clean against the dense greenery beyond. 

Head high, she gazed questioningly at the 
man whom she recognized as leader, await¬ 
ing his assignment to a place in line. The king 
of the White Ones, with only a casual glance, 
motioned her ahead of him and began to march. 
The Americans took up the step. 

“Boy, oh boy!” breathed Tim. “All the 
priests I ever knowed before now wanted me to 
go to heaven, but I don’t care if I go to hell 
with this one!” 


CHAPTER VI 


THE STRONGHOLD 

F IVE suns slid across the great green abyss 
and vanished behind the colossal wall of 
the Andes. Five nights whelmed the forest in 
blackness, through which moved only the savage 
or venomous creatures spawned to prey in 
gloom. While the sixth sun yet was high, a 
twisting line of warriors and women emerged 
from a shadowy defile among mountains and 
ended its journey. 

It had been a steady march. Throughout the 
first day the column had met no opposition, nor 
any obstacles except the usual jungle traps— 
swamp-holes, fallen trunks, thickets of thorny 
palm, networks of tough woody vines, which 
were passed by detours or penetrated by 
machete-work. That night the expedition had 
made bivouac on the western shore of the Pas- 
tasa, killing its cooking-fires as soon as the avail¬ 
able game had been broiled, and sleeping with¬ 
out lights. The next morning the Indians had 
produced, from the apparently empty shore 
growth, a number of thin-shelled dugout canoes, 
in which all were ferried over the fast-flowing 
64 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 65 

river. Then a detachment of paddlers had 
manned the canoes and vanished upstream, 
while the main body resumed its progress 
through the bush. 

“They will take the boats up to a creek, bring 
them inland, hide them, and then rejoin us,” 
Jose explained. “I keep canoes hidden in many 
places for use as needed: here on the Pastasa,* 
eastward on the Curaray, and even on that 
Tigre Yacu to the south, wdiere we four once 
journeyed to find gold or death.” He grinned 
reminiscently at his old-time partners- “And 
you may have noticed that they are made thin, 
so that they weigh much less than the clumsy 
dugouts used by most men. That makes it pos¬ 
sible to slide them easily overland if needed— 
though they are more liable to crack than if 
they were thick. It is thus that we move fast 
when we will, and keep in touch with the Napo 
or the Amazon—where I get my guns.” 

“Keeping open your communications,” nodded 
McKay. “Mighty important. But why go to 
the Napo?” 

“Traders come up the Napo with cartridges. 
I buy them.” 

“I see. And this little camp of yours that 
we’re heading for—it’s your main camp?” 

“Yes. A poor, rough place, but one where I 
hope you can be comfortable.” 

From that time onward they had plodded 
along toward the poor, rough place of which 


66 [THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

he spoke. At the next night halt fires were kept 
burning, and among the faces observed by the 
North Americans were those of the paddlers 
sent away with the canoes. When and where 
these men had rejoined the force they did not 
know. Somewhere along the way they had 
slipped out of the tangle and merged unnoticed 
with the moving chain. Observing the apparent 
carelessness of that night’s camp—the continu¬ 
ance of fires and the lack of night guards—the 
three adventurers inevitably felt that enemies 
might slip up as easily as had those returning 
canoemen, to massacre all as they slept. But 
they voiced no criticism and lost no sleep. The 
next forenoon they revised their opinion. 

As they marched onward, from a point not 
far ahead sounded deep, resonant notes—the 
signal of a heavy log drum. No such drum 
was carried by the men. Later, and at long 
intervals during the succeeding days, the same 
notes were repeated, always just a little ahead. 
But, look as they might when they passed the 
places whence those sonorous notes boomed, 
they saw no drum, no camp, no men—nothing 
but the forest. Previous jungle experience told 
them, though, that men were there, masked by 
the tangle, watching the line pass while they 
remained invisible; men who formed vigilant 
outposts along the hard-beaten path now being 
followed by the column. It was quite evident 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 67 

that foes might not find it a simple matter to 
catch the White Ones napping. 

“You’ve got things organized, Jose,” Knowl- 
ton remarked, catching the Spaniard’s quizzical 
glance after one of his vain attempts to locate 
the signalers. “Did you ever take any military 
training?” 

“Ho! Por Dios, no! I, Jose Martinez, 
drill and walk and turn at the bidding of a 
brass-buttoned monkey? Not I! All that I 
know about organization is what common sense 
tells me. Yet there may be soldier sense in my 
blood, for I, as you know, am of the Conquista- 
dores.” He said it proudly. “Outlaw as I am, 
my fathers were of the conquerors who seized 
and held this South America. It may be that 
their ghosts whisper to me what to do. Quien 
sabe?” 

“Faith, I believe ye,” Tim seriously agreed. 
“It’s in yer blood. Same as it’s in us three fel¬ 
lers’ blood to go hornin’ into places like this 
here, when there’s many a safer thing to do. 
Same as it’s in Noony’s blood to—uh—wal, to 
be different from them Jivero females, if ye git 
what I mean. Blood tells, as the feller says.” 

All four of them glanced at Nune, swinging 
along with tireless pace, as much of a mystery 
as she had been on that first day. She still trav¬ 
eled in the place to which Jose had assigned her 
—a place of honor, she seemed to feel, since it 
was with the white men—and still preserved the 


68 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

silence which Piatzo or her own mood laid on 
her lips. Despite repeated questionings at the 
night halts, she had told nothing more about 
herself or her people. What sort of blood had 
she? As Tim said, it differed from that of the 
head-hunters who had captured her. 

And now, on the sixth day, they were ending 
their traverse. For the past two days they had 
been mounting slopes, climbing higher and 
higher in country which became more and more 
broken. On this morning, the tail of the ser¬ 
pentine line had become its head; for Jose and 
his companions, hitherto marching in the most 
likely post of danger (since any attack would 
probably come from behind), now took the lead. 
Through a deep, narrow, rock-walled rift they 
twined along, the Americans looking aloft at 
times to see foreshortened figures peering down 
at them from the cliff edge. Then suddenly 
they debouched from cool shadow into blazing 
sun, from the clutching confinement of the 
jungle to a broad vista that halted the new¬ 
comers ill amazement. 

“This is my little camp,” grinned Jose, wav¬ 
ing a careless hand toward the panorama. 

The little camp was perhaps two miles wide. 
It lay in a rugged mountain bowl, the steep 
green slopes of which were varied here and 
there by precipices of naked rock. From side 
to side stretched rolling hillocks, like motionless 
billows of an emerald sea. Near the middle 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 69 

rose an isolated rock island, on the top of 
which glimmered yellow roofs. Here and there 
along the verdant knolls were glimpsed other 
roof peaks, and many small dents in the green¬ 
ery betokened clearings. Scanning the whole 
expanse with a rapid survey, the strangers pres¬ 
ently looked down at what lay below their feet. 
They found themselves about two hundred feet 
above the valley floor, to which a zigzag path 
dropped in swift slants from the defile through 
which they had entered. No house-tops showed 
near at hand, but before long they learned that 
houses were there too, concealed by the lofty 
trees. 

“Gee cripes!” blurted Tim. “Whaddye 
mean, little camp? This here is a young city. 
Mean to say this is all yourn?” 

“Most certainly, friend Tim. This, and all 
beyond the mountains, for many a league. Yet 
the land beyond the mountains is nothing to me 
except as it breeds men for me. This is the 
heart of my land, for this is where I live; and 
the heart of the heart is that little rock over 
yonder, on which I have a house. Come, let us 
go there and see what we may see.” 

Knowlton, whose blue eyes had been contem¬ 
plating the scene as those of an artist would 
drink in a new vista, turned impulsively. 

“Good work, old man!” he exclaimed. 
“You’ve created something here. There’s an 
atmosphere about this place—a feeling of— 


70 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

well, not of civilization; civilization’s too cold 
and artificial and treacherous—but of hominess, 
so to speak. As if your people lived straight and 
pulled together and fought clean—I can’t just 
tell you what I mean, but I’m sensitive to first 
impressions, and—well, this seems real!” 

He stopped, flushing, as if embarrassed by 
his enthusiasm. Jose nodded, his hawk face 
softening. 

“Friend, you could not have said a thing 
more kind,” he responded. “It is what I have 
striven to do—to make this real. In other 
places and other times I have done things which 
the world calls bad. But here I found a ruin 
and I have made a home.” 

For a silent moment he looked out again over 
his domain, a dominant fighter leaning on a 
gun, clad in blood-stained garments, backed by 
killers fresh from a death raid; yet, for the 
time, only a gentle-hearted man gazing on the 
home he had reared for himself and his own* 
Then he recalled himself. 

“Caramba! I grow sentimental! Here I 
stand dreaming like a lovesick boy while the sun 
fries my soft brains. I need red meat in my 
jaws and drink in my belly. Vamos!” 

With a truculent swagger he began swinging 
down the path, followed by Nune. The Ameri¬ 
cans, resuming their way, noted with some sur¬ 
prise that the girl once more was clothed. 
While they had gazed and talked she had made 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 71 

one quick survey of the settlement and then 
donned her simple robe. The dryad had van¬ 
ished and the priestess of Piatzo reappeared. 

At the base of the steep descent the path 
straightened out and, with slight bends, led 
away through the luxuriant woods. Only a few 
paces from the cliff slope stood a low, broad 
house with solid walls of chonta wood, before 
which lounged a small knot of soldierly savages. 
Jose, striding past, emitted a single curt grunt, 
to which they replied in kind, remaining un¬ 
moved. The Americans judged them to be 
guards, now off duty, of the natural gateway 
through which they had just come. 

For some little distance beyond this point no 
house was visible; but bypaths vanishing into 
the greenery indicated the existence of hidden 
homes or other resorts. Little streams, each 
bridged by a few split palm trunks lashed 
together, cut the path at intervals; the valley 
evidently was well watered. Then, from time 
to time, small clearings with well-made huts 
were glimpsed through fringes of trees beneath 
which all undergrowth had been cut away. At 
length a broader path opened at the right, 
revealing a log stockade with a half-open gate. 
Looking backward soon after passing this, 
Knowlton saw that the line following him had 
shrunk to a half score of riflemen. The Jivero 
women evidently had been herded into the cor- 


72 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

ral, and the fighting men had either stopped 
there or scattered among the bypaths. 

Finally they came out of the woodland and 
found themselves in a stumpy clearing, whence 
rose the rock which they had viewed from the 
entrance. For more than a hundred feet it 
towered above them, seemingly unscalable. 
Along its edge Jose led, and presently they 
were climbing among big bowlders, turning at 
short angles. A few minutes later they were 
above the stones and following an ascending 
ledge on the face of the parent rock. And then 
they were at the top, passing a small garrison- 
hut where silent men armed with ten-foot lances 
squatted at ease, but wideawake and ready. 
Beyond was a cluster of solid, cool-looking 
houses, shaded by short trees which stood stur¬ 
dily in the shallow soil topping the stone. 

“And so we come home,” said Jose. “A 
poor, rough place, as I have said. Yet I prom¬ 
ise that you shall find it more comfortable than 
some of the mosquito-cursed mud-holes in which 
you and I have made camps in the years gone 
by. First let us bathe, without fear of snake 
or crocodile, and then we shall eat such crude 
fare as we may find, and afterward look about. 
Come.” 

Up to the first and largest house he strode, 
the others scanning the surroundings as they 
walked. To the men, the most noticeable thing 
was that a w T all of rock blocks, waist high, 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 73 

rimmed the edge of the precipice; a defense 
which seemed not only unnecessary, but rather 
foolish, in view of the height of the place and 
the great labor involved in bringing the blocks 
from below. To Nune, still wordless, the most 
important circumstance was that three hand¬ 
some Indian women had emerged from the door 
and were observing her with expressions none 
too friendly. Each was garbed in a short, strik¬ 
ing frock of bark cloth beautifully decked with 
feather-work; each wore aslant in her black hair 
a single lustrous plume; and each resembled her 
companions in face and figure. Quite obviously 
they were sisters. 

“Hullo, girls!” saluted Tim, with a wide 
grin. “I forgit yer names, but I recollect yer 
faces and I know ye’re all Missus Hozy. We 
come back to learn yer husband some more bad 
tricks, if he don’t know ’em all now.” 

The women, though unable to understand his 
words, smiled recognition. Jose chuckled. 
Then, in a few curt phrases, he gave them com¬ 
mands regarding Nune. Without reply, they 
looked steadily at the new woman brought home 
by their hawk-faced lord; turned, with a slight 
beckoning motion of the head, and led the way 
toward one of the other houses. Nune, cool 
and confident as ever, followed. 

“Jealous,” muttered Tim, adding, a bit 
anxiously: “And I seen them girls do some 


74 'THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

wicked scrappin’ oncet on a time. They won’t 
do her no harm, will they, Hozy?” 

“All women are jealous,” Jose answered, 
with a slight smile. “But I am master here. 
They will not harm her.” 

Straight through the house he went, and out 
into a patio where, in a square basin of stone, 
lay a deep, dark pool. Stone blocks beside it 
formed seats. 

“Our bathing place, fed by springs and made 
for us long before we were born,” their host 
announced. And, with no more ado, he peeled 
off his shirt. With one accord his hot, travel- 
stained companions stripped. 

“Ooch!” gasped Tim, rising from his first 
plunge. “Ice water! Colder’n—I mean, lovely 
and warm, Looey What ye waitin’ for? 
C-c-come on in; it’s g-g-great!” He clenched 
his jaws to still his chattering teeth. 

“Oh, the bulldog on the bank 
And the bullfrog in the pool,* 

sang Knowlton, standing nude and laughing 
down at him. 

“The bulldog called the bullfrog 
A green old water fool! 

Singing tra-la-la-■* 

“Hey! Let go! Ouch!” 

Splash! 

The bullfrog had grabbed the bulldog’s 
ankles with two huge fists and yanked him in. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE OUTLAW KING 

I N the cool shadow of a spacious piazza, 
swept by a lusty breeze from the east, the 
four men lounged luxuriously in hammocks, 
smoking and gazing out across the valley at the 
farther heights. 

They had dined—not crudely, as Jose had 
intimated, but on a profusion of meats and 
fruits served at a massive mahogany table by 
half-nude girls of the White Ones. They had 
drunk of a colorless but mellow liquor which, 
Jose said, was palm wine; and now they smoked 
home-made cigars rolled from tobacco grown 
on some plantation near by. All were freshly 
clothed, the spare kits of the Americans having 
been brought up while they ate and Jose having 
donned a clean set of his llanchama fiber gar¬ 
ments. And now they were wondrously com¬ 
fortable and content. 

McKay, lolling with long legs dangling from 
his hammock, flicked an ash from his cigar and 
spoke. 

“You said you’d found a ruin here and made 
a home. What was the ruin?” 

75 


76 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

“The ruin of a place destroyed, Rodrigo. A 
place of stone, which once must have been—as 
Tim said some time ago—a young city; and, 
perhaps, not so young. Who made it—what 
destroyed its people—I do not know. It was 
made long ago and ended long ago—so long 
that there is no knowledge of it among my 
White Ones. And, for that matter, my White 
Ones do not even know who they themselves 
are. 

“Si, it is so. Their only name for them¬ 
selves—except ‘White Ones’—is Sumataras. 
There is no such race as the Sumataras, so far 
as I have ever heard. Yet I know that the 
river which now is called Pastasa, and which 
has been so called for many years, has a more 
ancient name—the name of Sumatara. My 
people call it always Sumatara, and say it is 
their river, but they do not know why they call 
it so. They have been for centuries a lost, scat¬ 
tered, unknown people, and they have forgotten 
their own beginnings. It is a marvel that they 
still exist. 

“My own idea—which is worth little, since 
there is no proof—is that they are the last of 
some white race which at some time lived in 
the west, and which perhaps was driven east¬ 
ward through the mountains and down the Pas¬ 
tasa; and that perhaps later on the head-hunting 
Jiveros broke them, or a great pestilence de¬ 
stroyed all but a few, and that they had to 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 77 

withdraw into this region to exist. It may be 
so, or it may not. Who can solve the mystery 
of this unknown land which swallows up men 
and races? But I know that they are far dif¬ 
ferent from all other peoples in this Oriente. 
It is not only that they are far more fair of 
skin, but their eyes are set differently in their 
heads; their minds are different—yes, their 
skulls are different—more long and narrow. It 
is true that their ways are Indian, but in this 
land of the Indian there are no other ways. 

“But you were asking about this place, and 
not about my people. It is a long tale, but I 
shall try to make it short. And since talking 
is dry work— Saquina!” 

From the doorway came one of the serving- 
girls, bearing more of the palm wine. As she 
passed it about, the whites looked more criti¬ 
cally than hitherto at her well-shaped head, 
straight-set eyes, and trim figure. A typical 
girl of the White Ones, she was indeed far dif¬ 
ferent from the Jivero women. Yet she also 
differed from Nune, her face being broader and 
somewhat heavier of chin. The half-formed 
thought that Nune might be a stray member of 
this race flickered out. 

“Now,” resumed Jose, licking his mustache, 
“let us begin at the beginning and tell the story 
as it should be told. How does a good tale 
start in your tongue?” 

“ ‘Once upon a time-’ ” quoted Knowlton. 



78 iTHE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

“Ah! Good! So it shall be. 

“Once upon a time, senores, there was a Peru¬ 
vian, one Jose Martinez, who must flee for his 
life because he had killed in fight a human snake 
who held a position of power in the Peruvian 
government. He escaped through the moun¬ 
tains and vanished into the jungle at the east. 
And there he led a life such as a villain of his 
class must lead, trusting no man and existing by 
his quickness with the knife and the bullet. 

“Then, after a time, came North Americans, 
who not only did not seek to take the life of 
Jose, but saved it for him when he was at the 
point of death. Yes, they did even more than 
this for him, though they did not know it. By 
their stubborn determination to succeed in what 
they came for, they did succeed; and so they 
proved to Jose that if a man will set his mind 
on doing a thing and never quit striving until 
that thing is done, he can accomplish what other 
men call impossible. And when they went away, 
the ambition of Jose, which had long been 
nearly dead, began to revive. Even though he 
was an outcast with a price on his head, he still 
was a man, not a brainless beast to be used for 
the good of other men; and he could make his 
future better than his past, if he was enough of 
a man to do it. 

“More time went on, and then he heard of 
gold on the Tigre Yacu, where men disappeared 
or came back maimed and mad. He went to 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 79 

that river, determined to win gold or death for 
himself. And there, by chance, he met again 
his North American comrades, and on that evil 
river they found great wealth. Then they went 
away again—all but Jose, whose ambition now 
had grown all the more great. He was not 
satisfied to be merely a rich man. He now 
would be a king.” 

He paused, smiling out at the distance. The 
others hung motionless, eyes riveted on his face. 

“Jose had met the White Ones of the Tigre 
Yacu,” he resumed, “and had made himself one 
of them. Si, he had joined them most thor¬ 
oughly, for he had taken all nine daughters of 
old Chief Pachac as his wives. And when 
Pachac was killed in battle, Jose was chief of 
all his tribe who were left. But those few 
White Ones were not enough for him to rule; 
the Tigre Yacu country was not large enough to 
be his kingdom. He knew that there were 
other White Ones, hidden away here and there 
in the thick country about the Cordillera del 
Pastasa. Pie knew that all this wild country 
between the Andes, the Amazon, and the Cor¬ 
dillera del Putumayo was claimed by both Peru 
and Ecuador, but was really no man’s land, 
since no government could conquer its savages 
and thus control it. So now he, who had no 
country and no rights and so was no man, would 
make all this no man’s land his own. King 
No-Man, of No Man’s Land! Hah! 


80 THE KING OF NO MAN'S LAND 

“So Jose and his own little band of White 
Ones traveled the trails and the streams, seek¬ 
ing out those other scattered White Ones and 
talking to them of the remaking of their nation. 
And, sehores, it was no easy matter to make 
them see what seemed so plain. There was no 
organization among them; each little tribe lived 
where it would and moved as it pleased, and it 
had been thus for so many lifetimes that at first 
they would not think of gathering together and 
being ruled in a body. They said that in that 
way they would become mission Indians and so 
become weak and easy victims for the head¬ 
hunters. In that they showed good sense, for 
although the priests think they are doing much 
good in making the Indians ‘civilized’ and stop¬ 
ping them from fighting, they really are only 
making them soft and fattening them for the 
butchers. Any man who knows this country can 
tell you how the mission Indians to the west and 
south have been butchered by the Huambizas. 

“But when Jose made it plain that he came 
not to preach peace, but to breed war on the 
Jiveros, then the other chiefs of the White Ones 
began to see differently. Among all the White 
Ones there is a blood hate for the head-hunters, 
more bitter than any hate I ever have seen; it 
is born in them, a hundred times more fierce 
than the hate for a snake. And so when they 
found that there would be war to the death 
against those murderers, and that their own 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 81 

nation would again grow strong by coming 
together, then the task of Jose became more 
easy.” 

Again he paused. When he went on he dis¬ 
carded the impersonal form of narration and 
spoke directly of himself. 

“Now, in wandering among these people, I 
had always been looking for a spot which would 
be good for a strong settlement: but I found 
none which suited me. But at length I came 
here, to visit certain White Ones who were 
living over yonder, on a stream which you have 
not yet seen. Before I left them to visit others, 
I decided that this should be the spot where all 
should gather and make their home. As you 
see, it is wide, well watered, and fertile, with a 
natural wall all about it. There are only five 
passes through that wall, and all are narrow 
and easily guarded. And if by any chance ene¬ 
mies should succeed in coming through, here is 
this wide rock, where even a small force could 
hold off many times their number.” 

“But those mountains don’t look insurmount¬ 
able,” interrupted McKay. “What’s to hinder 
Jiveros from disregarding your five entrances 
and crawling up and over through the thick 
woods?” 

“Several things,” smiled Jose. “They are 
not so easy as they look. There are many 
places which cannot be climbed. There are 
other places where wide splits in the rock bar 


82 jTHE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

any man from crossing. And in spots where 
neither of these barriers exist, there are such 
thick growths of thorn-trees that no bare 
Indian could slip through. Those thorns stand 
just where they are needed, and I cannot believe 
that they grow at those spots by chance. I think 
they were planted there by whatever people 
held this place long ago. They had a neat set¬ 
tlement here, those first ones. I wish I could 
know who they were. 

“In this valley, for as long as the White Ones 
can remember, have grown many kinds of fruits 
and other foods—growing wild, without care 
except the little attention given to some of them 
by the women; all planted, without doubt, by 
those forgotten ones. On this rock, where now 
we rest, they had large houses of stone; and 
down below, in many places, were other such 
houses. That, I think, was their great mistake, 
for when I came here not one stone house re¬ 
mained—there was nothing but heaps of rocks, 
and those below here still are nothing else, for 
we have not moved any except those found up 
here. Some terrible earthquake must have 
smashed them all at once. Perhaps that was 
the end of all the people here. A sudden 
temblor in the night, when all slept, and-” 

He motioned as if crushing an insect. 

“So I have not repeated that mistake. All 
our houses are broad and low and made of 
wood; the walls are of chonta, which will stop 



THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 83 

even a bullet, and yet are not so heavy as to 
crush us if they fall in. The stones which once 
were houses up here now rest yonder at the 
edge, where we placed them as a wall when we 
cleared this spot. It was as easy to pile them 
as to throw them over, and at some time they 
might be useful to drop on the heads of vis¬ 
itors. My men who guard the tops of the 
passes all are well supplied with stones also, as 
a discouragement to strangers from the west.” 

“Oof! And we passed right under some o’ 
them head-crackers when we come in,” recalled 
Tim. 

“Just so. But the signals sent ahead told 
that all was well. I have a telegraph system, 
too, you see.” 

“How do you work it? I heard it, but I 
couldn’t see it,” said Knowlton. 

“It is the tunday—the log drum which the 
Jiveros themselves use. I will show it to you 
presently, for I have one here. This is the 
—ah-” 

“Central station. Headquarters,” supplied 
McKay. 

“Exactly. We have our own code, so that 
no sneaking Jiveros could understand it. But 
now let me speak of more important matters of 
organization, so that you may see how I 
progress. 

“As you know, I had much gold when you 
left me. I now know where there is even more, 



84 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

for my people have told me of certain places 
along this cordillera where one has only to dig 
it out. But I have not yet touched it, and per¬ 
haps I never shall. It is useful to me only to 
arm my men. Oh yes, I could buy many other 
things through the traders who supply my arms, 
but it has become my habit to make the -jungle 
give me what I need, and to do without the 
things of ‘civilization’—bah! an empty name, 
that ‘civilization/ which loads a man with use¬ 
less burdens. Guns and ammunition and mache¬ 
tes, however, I must have. So, as I have told 
you, I obtain them from traders on the Amazon 
or the Napo, sending out certain men of mine 
to meet them and bring back the goods. No 
trader is allowed to come here, or even to know 
where this place is. 

“So I keep my men well armed; and I have 
trained them all in the handling of a carbine, 
though not all of them carry guns when on a 
march. Every man of mine is a warrior, and 
can use rifle, machete, arrow, or spear with 
ease. Every boy is learning the use of weapons. 
In a few more years the White Ones will be a 
fast-growing nation, to be feared by better men 
than the Jiveros. And-” 

“Wait a minute,” McKay broke in again. 
“You said ‘fast-growing.’ How so?” 

“Hah! How do you suppose a nation 
grows?” laughed the Spaniard. “By being born. 



THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 85 

Is it not so? Bien. I have seen to it that more 
children shall be born to the White Ones than 
before.” 

“Oh! Jivero mothers?” 

“Sangre de Cristo! No! Those black¬ 
toothed animals become the mothers of my 
future warriors? They are slaves! Slaves who 
do the work for the women of the White Ones, 
and so give the mothers more time to care for 
themselves and their children. Slaves they are, 
and slaves they stay. 

“See. We must have slaves. My men are 
warriors and hunters, and they do only the work 
such men should do. Their women are mothers 
to as many children as they can bear. So the 
Jivero women are the workers on the planta¬ 
tions. And, having no mates, they will have no 
more children. That is one more way by which 
we shall overcome the Jivero nation. We kill 
the Jivero men; we take away the Jivero women 
and children—giving the women an easier life 
than they had before, and preventing their 
bringing more head-hunters into the world. 
And the Jiveros themselves are helping us by 
killing one another in their head-hunts; for they 
are split into tribes such as the Huambizas, the 
Aguarunas, the Antipas, who war on one an¬ 
other. With the White Ones helping them to 
grow weaker, while the White Ones themselves 
grow more powerful—what is the end?” 

“The end’s the finish o’ the Jiveros,” chor- 


86 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


tied Tim. “Boy, yeVe got a whale of an ambi¬ 
tion, I’ll tell the world! But, say, all this is 
goin’ to take a long time. S’posin’ somethin’ 
happens to ye, or s’posin’ ye git old before the 
finish comes—then who’s King Nobody the 
Second? Have ye got a prince trainin’ for the 
job?” 

“Most certainly,” grinned the Spaniard. “I 
now have twelve princes and eight princesses, 
and there will soon be more.” 

“Wha-a-at! Twelve and eight—twenty kids 
in three years?” 

“Just so. When I command my people to in¬ 
crease I must set a good example, is it not true? 
I had hoped to have nine sons each year, but 
not even a king can regulate such matters. But 
if I live fifteen years longer—” 

“If ye do, ye’ll have to make yer Injuns move 
outside. Ye’ll need this whole place for yer own 
family. Say, when I git back home I’m goin’ to 
ship ye down a statue to stick up on this here 
rock—a fierce-lookin’ guy, with words under it 
sayin’: ‘Hozy Marteeny, Father of His Coun¬ 
try. Final Score, Boys—(blank), Girls— 
(blank).’ Then yer oldest boy can fill in the 
figgers when yer game’s called. I bet it ’ll be a 
world’s record! 

“But, say, now, on the level, don’t this king 
business o’ yourn make ye feel sort o’ tied down? 
I can see ye take it pretty serious, and it seems 
like an awful lot o’ responsibility. Me, I’d git 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 87 

sick of it after a while and want to be foot 
loose, with nothin’ on me mind but me hat.” 

The Spaniard’s mirthful face suddenly 
clouded. For a moment he did not answer. 
Then he abruptly arose and began pacing up 
and down. 

“Friend Tim, you have touched me on a sore 
spot,” he grudgingly admitted. “It is just as 
you say. I grow sick of it at times. I become as 
restless as a tiger. While the fit lasts I want to 
turn my back on all this and be once more a lone 
rover—to drift without a care, meeting things 
as they come. That is why I go often with my 
men on raids, when I should remain here. They 
could work as well under their own commanders. 
But I must travel the trails, fight my enemies 
with my own hands, or I find life flat—yes, 
unbearable! For only a little time after such 
a journey I am content. Then I must move 
again. Why in the name of the devil must a 
man be so restless? 

“And that is not all. Senores, I am ashamed 
to confess this thing, and yet it is true. More 
and more strongly my own blood calls to 
me—the blood of Spanish people in the west, 
beyond the great mountains. They have cast 
me out. They have hounded me, sought my 
blood. Many a time I have cursed them. Yet 
—I ache for the friends I once had; for the 
fiestas, the cathedral bells, the voices and the 
laughter of my own people. I am a white man. 


88 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


I am not an Indian. Yet among Indians I must 
live and in the jungle I must die! 

“King?” He laughed harshly. “Si, I am 
a king! I have made myself a king and built 
for myself a prison!” 

Savagely he paced the earth floor, his face 
hard drawn. Nobody spoke. The three stared 
at their cigar stubs, avoiding one another’s eyes. 
The abrupt revelation of an unsuspected heart 
hunger in this indomitable adventurer stirred 
them to pity which they could not voice. 

With all his pride in his achievements, this 
king of No Man’s Land was but one of that 
pathetic lost legion whose members are found in 
all the wild corners of the earth—the Men Who 
Can Never Come Back. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE INQUISITION 

O UT of the northwest* deep and slow, 
sounded the boom of a drum. 

Jose halted. His visitors sat up, watching 
him and listening. 

The sound ceased. Then, somewhere close 
at hand, thundered a single drum stroke in re- 
ply. 

With a motion to the others, Jose strode off 
the piazza and toward the rear. They arose 
and followed. While they walked, the distant 
drum began thumping again; and now it spoke 
in irregular beats, with pauses. It still was send¬ 
ing its message when the white men reached the 
home station of the jungle telegraph. 

A small open-sided hut formed the station. 
Within it, waist high, hung the tunday—a sec¬ 
tion of hollow log with several notches, sus¬ 
pended by fiber cord and held firm by another 
cord anchored in the ground. Beside the drum 
stood a symmetrical young Indian holding a mal¬ 
let incased in tapir hide and listening intently to 
the incoming report. 

As the northern drum became silent, he 
looked steadily at Jose. The latter spoke 
89 


90 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

briefly. Still wordless, the operator swung his 
mallet in an unhurried succession of blows, strik¬ 
ing with no apparent effort, but evoking thun¬ 
derous tones. The last half dozen notes were 
beaten in a rapid tattoo, which, the North 
Americans surmised, denoted a query. 

Back came an answer. Jose frowned. For a 
minute he considered. Then he gave curt direc¬ 
tions, heard them sent, and listened while one 
note thumped back in response. The operator 
laid his mallet on the drum and his master 
turned away. 

“This is strange,” he pondered. “An Indian 
from the northwest has been stopped while try¬ 
ing to reach me. He carried a written message 
for me. He is being held at the place where 
he was caught while one of my men runs here 
with the paper. 

“That Indian must have been sent by the pa¬ 
dres at Canelos. Nobody but the priests could 
make him come into this country. But those 
priests have no love for me and I cannot under¬ 
stand why they should send me any word.” 

The others exchanged glances. 

“Maybe it’s for us,” Knowlton suggested. 
“They knew we were looking for you when we 
were there, and maybe they've changed their 
opinion of us and— Say! Here’s another 
possibility—maybe Dave has turned up!” 

McKay’s face, and Tim’s, too, brightened. 
The Spaniard looked skeptical. 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 91 

“Might be/’ McKay said. “The Canelos out¬ 
fit doesn’t know we’re looking for him, but the 
people up in the mountains do. They might 
have gotten track of him and sent a message. 
The priests would relay it, perhaps.” 

“Perhaps,” conceded Jose; but his tone in¬ 
dicated disbelief. 

“What’s the trouble between you and the 
clergy, Jose?” asked Knowlton. 

“There is no trouble, except that we do not 
agree. I have no enmity for them. But they do 
not understand my ideas. They believe in mak¬ 
ing a land peaceful through the cross, and in 
spite of all their failures they still cannot see 
that this region is too savage to be conquered 
in that way. So, because I build my nation by 
war—and because I allow no priest to come 
into my land and soften my men—they regard 
me as a man of blood, a son of the devil, and an 
enemy of the Church. The first two of those 
things I may be, but not the third. Perhaps the 
time will come when they will realize that I was 
wiser than they and that the heathen Martinez, 
slayer of head-hunters, was a power for good. 
But I care nothing for what they may say. The 
only priest whose talk I wish to hear is the one 
we brought with us.” 

They were walking again toward the royal 
house, passing others on the way. At one of 
these a number of warriors seemed to be en¬ 
gaged in cleaning guns or leisurely making ar- 


92 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

rows. At another, women drowsed in ham¬ 
mocks or passed in and out. Apparently no 
Jivero women were permitted to ascend this 
rock. 

“Ye mean Noonay,” nodded Tim, looking 
cornerwise at the women. “What ye done with 
the liT rascal? And what ye goin’ to do with 
her later on?” 

“She is resting in that house of the women. 
That is the house of my wives and children, and 
she is the first stranger who has ever been 
allowed to enter it. I intend soon to question 
her again.” He paused, glanced at the sun, 
and considered. “But no. I think that first I 
shall take her for a walk—and you also, if you 
will come.” 

“Sure. Anything you say,” yawned Knowlton. 

“Bueno. Huarma!” 

At his call, a tall young woman arose from a 
hammock on the shady porch of the women’s 
house and stood looking inquiringly at him. In 
monotone he spoke half a dozen Indian words. 
She turned and walked within. Jose resumed 
his way. 

“Nune will come to us presently,” he said. 
“By the time the sun sets I think she will be in 
the mood to talk. We shall see.” 

As they passed onward, Tim stared back at 
the house. 

“Twenty kids in there, and never a bawl!” 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 9 3 

he marveled. “How d’ye keep ’em quiet, 
Hozy ?” 

“I do not,” chuckled the father. “But their 
mothers do. They have the Indian gift of 
training children to silence—indeed, the child of 
the jungle seems born to silence. Yet they are 
not so dumb in the morning. Now they take 
their afternoon sleep.” 

Without pausing at the house, he passed on 
to the guard hut at the top of the cliff path. 
There the four waited, the Americans quickly 
surveying the interior and then turning their 
attention to the surroundings. 

They noticed that the two sentries now on 
duty were not the same men who had watched 
them arrive, and now they recalled seeing the 
other pair resting at the house of the warriors 
behind them. They observed that a couple of 
carbines stood at the door for use if the long 
spears should prove insufficient, and that a small 
tunday and mallet hung ready to summon re¬ 
serves. Then, looking below, they saw that not 
only the upper section of the ledge, but much of 
the clearing, was visible from this point. 

“I am a most careful ruler, yes?” grinned 
Jose. “Not even a mosquito is allowed to pass 
and bite the sacred hide of the king.” 

“Yeah,” assented Tim. “Too bad ye’re so 
scairt o’ gittin’ hurt, ye poor fish. But we know 
how it is. Ye’ve got the women and kids to look 
out for.” 


94 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

“That is it,” nodded the king. “I am not 
here at all times, and they must be protected. 
These guards never leave this rock. Ah, here 
is Nune.” 

The others glanced around, and forgot to 
turn back. McKay, eyes twinkling, advised: 
“Steady, Tim! Take a grip on your heart.” 

“Hm! Our lady has changed again,” com¬ 
mented Knowlton. “First a priestess, then a 

nymph, and now-” 

“Oh, boy! Ain’t she the baby vamp, 

though!” 

Nune had indeed changed. The alterations 
were simple, yet striking. Her plain, travel- 
stained robe had given way to one of the bril¬ 
liantly feathered gowns of the wives of Jose. 
Her hair, which had been caught up in rough- 
and-ready fashion during the march, now 

formed an ebony frame for her ivory face. 
Both gown and hair accentuated the fairness of 
her skin; and her poise, the tilt of her head, the 
light in her brown eyes, held a challenge—born 
not of defiance or coquetry, but of the knowl¬ 
edge that she was very good to look upon. 

“Ah! It works,” muttered Jose. 

“What works?” puzzled Knowlton. 

“An idea I had. You shall see. Come.” 

Down the cliff path he went, and out along 
the way by which they had come in. Presently 
they reached the stockade, where the gate now 
was shut. A couple of spearmen, at his ap- 



THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 95 

proach, drew a bar and swung the barrier open. 
The five passed inside and looked about. 

Within were a number of huts, most of which 
now were empty. In those nearest the gate 
were gathered the recently arrived Jivero 
women and children, resting after their march. 
They looked silently at the visitors, their faces 
expressionless until their eyes rested on Nune. 
Then those eyes narrowed and into them crept 
a snaky glint. 

Nune returned their unpleasant gaze with a 
steady, impersonal regard; but it was obvious 
that she recognized the menace under those 
lowering lids. Jose chuckled softly. 

“The mind of a woman is queer, yes?” he 
said. “Behold these, unmoved by whatever 
fate I—a man—may give them, but stung by the 
sight of their Huambiza prisoner dressed like 
a queen.” Then, in Spanish, “Nune, would you 
like to live here?” 

Her quick backward step answered more elo¬ 
quently than words. 

“No?” he teased. “It is a very comfortable 
place. But let us now look farther.” 

As he walked out he chuckled again. The 
gate swung shut behind them with a sullen bump, 
the bar slid creaking into its post hole, and the 
spearmen resumed their vigil. The five returned 
to the main path and soon turned down a 
byway. 

A short distance in, they came to a space 


96 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

cleared of undergrowth but shadowed by the 
widespread crests of lofty trees. There stood 
a cool house, log walled and palm thatched, 
where a young woman held a baby while she 
watched two small boys shoot little arrows at 
a tree. On the approach of the party, the boys 
whirled and leveled their miniature weapons at 
the invaders; then lowered them and stood half 
smiling, half serious, as their king passed on. 

“My little fighting men,” jested Jose. “As 
quick as cats. And already they hit what they 
shoot at. They will make hard warriors.” 

A little farther on they came into a small but 
fertile plantation. There toiled several Jivero 
women, watched by a Jivero boy holding a club. 
The boy was hardly ten years old, but his face 
was grim as that of a grown man. 

“See,” said Jose, speaking in Spanish for the 
benefit of Nune. “Thus we use the Jiveros and 
grow our food. These women are allotted to 
this house behind us. The boy is overseer. One 
of those women is his mother, another his sis¬ 
ter, but they gain no favors because of that. He 
is a Jivero man-child, and he rules them by 
Jivero law. He will never become a shrinker of 
heads—we White Ones see to that—but he and 
others like him are good slave masters. If the 
women disobey, he must punish, or he will be 
put to work with them. He knows how to 
punish.” 

Covertly he watched Nune while he talked. 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 97 

On her face he spied repulsion, and over his 
bearded lips flickered a grin. 

“Now let us go,” he went on. “This, my 
friends, is one of many such places in this val¬ 
ley. They all are much alike, and, having seen 
one, you have seen all. Now we shall return to 
our rock and speak of another matter.” 

As they retraced their steps the Americans 
glanced curiously at their quondam partner, en¬ 
deavoring to fathom his purpose in leading the 
girl on, this tour of inspection; for it was quite 
obvious to them, if not to her, that the exhibi¬ 
tion of the servitude of the Jiveros was no mere 
whim. The donation of her new dress, too, had 
undoubtedly been made as the result of his com¬ 
mands, since his women would be quite unlikely 
to volunteer such adornment to one whom they 
could not fail to regard as a possible rival. 
These moves were deliberate preliminaries to 
something. But to what? 

The ruler of the White Ones vouchsafed no 
information, and they asked no questions, wait¬ 
ing for the little drama to play itself. Up to the 
top they returned, and into the king’s house they 
walked. There Jose seated himself at his big 
mahogany table, signing to the others to take 
places along the board. His own chair was as 
massive as the table, tall backed, with a great 
jaguar hide thrown carelessly across its top—a 
fitting seat for jungle royalty. The table now 


98 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

was blank and bare; the shadowy, silent room 
solemn as a court. 

For several minutes the Spaniard sat motion¬ 
less, his eyes dwelling on Nune, his expression 
austere as that of a judge about to pronounce 
sentence. When he spoke his voice was stern. 

“Nune, it now is time to speak whatever you 
know of the land of the Huambizas.” 

The girl steadily met his gaze. After a mo¬ 
ment she answered, “Nune does not yet hear the 
command of Piatzo to speak.” 

“Bien. Then Nune must remain here until 
she hears the command.” 

Her head lifted a trifle higher. 

“You have promised,” she reminded, “that 
Nune could return to her people.” 

“True. But who are your people? The 
Huambizas?” 

“The Huambizas.” 

“And you are a servant of Piatzo?” 

t<T. • n 

it IS SO. 

“Bah!” He struck the table with a hand. 
“Both of those things cannot be true. The 
Huambizas are Jiveros. They are the most 
cruel and fierce of all the Jiveros. They do not 
obey Piatzo. When the men of the Huambizas 
do not serve Piatzo, no woman of theirs can 
serve him. If you are a Huambiza, you cannot 
serve Piatzo. If you are a servant of Piatzo 
you are not a Huambiza. So you do not speak 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 99 

truth. To one who does not speak truth I do 
not keep a promise unless I choose.” 

She sat dumb. 

“You are very fair of skin,” he went on, “and 
I know that some of the Huambizas are much 
more light than any other Jiveros. They have 
in them the blood of Spanish women captured 
three hundred years ago at the destruction of 
Sevilla de Oro, and of Spanish children who 
were caught in other raids since then at Bar¬ 
ranca and Borja and who grew up as men and 
women of the Huambizas. I know, too, that 
you were brought as a prisoner to the place 
where I found you, and that you came from the 
Huambiza country, because I saw at that place 
the freshly cured heads of three Huambiza men 
killed when you were caught. So I believe you 
to be Huambiza. But your cross and your talk 
of Piatzo—they mean nothing unless proved. 
Your story may be only a clever lie to gain the 
protection of the cross, and your cross may be 
the plunder from the body of some real priest 
beheaded by your Huambiza mate!” 

At that she started up, horror on her face. 

“No!” she denied. “It is-” Then she 

stopped short. 

“It is—what? You go no further. Bien. I 
understand. You refuse to talk, not because 
Piatzo tells you to be silent, but because you 
would protect the Huambizas from me. Piatzo 
does not bid anyone to protect murderers from 



ioo THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


vengeance! You are Huambiza—Jivero—and 
in my kingdom there is but one place for wom¬ 
en of the Jiveros. You have just seen that place. 
A real servant of Piatzo might remain on this 
rock, with all honor, or go freely away. But I 
allow no Jivero to stay here. A Jivero must 
work, down below, among other Jiveros.” 

He stopped and shot a warning glance at 
Tim, whose florid face was turning redder and 
whose blue eyes were beginning to glitter at this 
merciless denunciation and threat. The impres¬ 
sionable Irishman was taking this “third degree” 
as seriously as was Nune, and now he was rapid¬ 
ly warming into a fighting wrath. McKay and 
Knowlton, following the look, gripped his 
shoulders and scowled at him. Tim, after a 
glare at both, swallowed something and 
remained silent. 

Nune stood as if petrified, conflicting emotions 
succeeding one another on her dazed face. Jose, 
watching her, spoke as harshly as before, giving 
her no hint of hope. But his words were direct¬ 
ed to the Americans in their own tongue. 

“Tim, learn something about handling wom¬ 
en from a man who rules nine. There are times 
when you must ‘treat ’em rough,’ as you would 
say. This girl’s weak spot is her pride—a true 
Spanish pride—and I am treating it roughly. 
First I pricked it by letting her find herself in¬ 
ferior in appearance to my wives. Then I flat¬ 
tered it by putting new clothing in her way, and 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND ioi 


the woman triumphed over the priestess, as you 
saw. And now, when her pride is most keen, I 
strike it brutally with a threat to degrade her 
into a fellow slave with those snake women 
whom she hates as they hate her. Behold now 
the result.” 

Even as he talked the girl’s head drooped. 
Then she regained her calmness and looked at 
her judge as steadily as before; but when she 
spoke it was with a touch of humility never hith¬ 
erto shown. 

“It is true that Piatzo does not protect those 
who kill. It is true that my people do not serve 
him. It may be that Nune has been sent to you 
by the Good Father, but she was blind to his 
will. Nune will speak what she knows.” 

“It is well,” Jose responded, grimly. “Speak 
all the truth, and all that you can remember 
from the earliest time. Then shall I judge.” 


CHAPTER IX 


A GIRL OF THE HEAD-HUNTERS 

N UNE is a girl of the Rio Upano,” began 
the girl, speaking in her usual quiet tone. 
“The Upano comes from the great mountains, 
and on it is the city of Macas. A long way 
below Macas the rough water ends and the 
river then is called Morona. It is a river of the 
Huambizas. In all its length there is no town 
of white men except Macas. 

“Nune was a little girl of the Huambizas who 
lived on a small stream called Kwana. The 
Huambizas of the Kwana had their house at a 
place two days west from the Upano. There 
Nune lived and grew. She saw the men go away 
and come back with new heads and new women 
and children. Sometimes the new ones were 
very dark and came from a long distance away. 
Sometimes they were almost as light as Nune. 
Nune was more white than any of the other girls 
or boys. 

“There was a wizard on the Kwana. Nune 
was afraid of him, and so was everyone else. 
He had a great snake that told him many things. 
It was a hungry snake. Sometimes a baby van- 
102 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 103 

ished. The wizard always said a demon had 
snatched the baby because its mother had 
wished bad luck upon the tribe. So the mother 
would be punished. A spear would be stuck 
through her stomach and she would die in great 
pain. But Nune noticed that when a baby was 
gone the snake always slept a long time. 

“Nune spoke about this. She said the babies 
had gone into the belly of the snake. The wiz¬ 
ard was very angry. He said she must be killed 
for speaking so. He said she was no Huam- 
biza, but a white cat brought home from a raid, 
and no good ever came from sparing such an evil 
creature. Now she must be killed or the demon 
in her would cause all the tribe to be caught by 
their enemies. The curaca [chief] did not like 
this, because Nune now would soon be a woman, 
and a son of the curaca wanted her. But he was 
afraid of the wizard, too. They talked and 
fought with words. The wizard made the cu¬ 
raca believe Nune must die. She must be tied to 
a post, and the snake would come there and 
crush her. 

“So Nune was tied to the post. First there 
was much beating of the drums, and the men 
took the heads of their enemies from the house 
and marched around her, swinging the heads by 
the hair. This went on all day, and at night lit¬ 
tle fires were built all around Nune and her post 
to keep her demon from escaping. The fires 
were not near enough to burn her, but they gave 


104 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

light, and men watched. All the next day there 
was drumming and marching. All this time 
Nune stood at the post, with no food. 

“That night the wizard watched alone. 
When all slept he told Nune he would take her 
to a secret place where none would find her. 
There she would live and there he would come 
to her at times, and she would be his woman. 
The people would think a demon had eaten her 
in the night. But Nune would rather be killed 
than be the woman of the wizard. Even the 
snake was not so bad as he. She told him so. 
Then he was more angry than before. 

“In the morning the wizard brought the 
snake. He blew on a pipe of cane with holes, 
and the snake followed him. He walked around 
and around the post, and the snake slid around 
and around after. Everyone was there to see 
Nune die. 

“Then a great, terrible voice spoke. From 
the forest came a tall, thin man with awful eyes 
shining like the eyes of a tiger. He wore a long 
black robe and carried a gold cross. He came 
through the crowd and stood beside Nune. He 
roared in a strange tongue and shook his cross 
at the snake and the wizard. The wizard stood 
still and the snake stopped. Then the wizard 
howled that this was a devil priest of the white 
men and the warriors must kill him. But the 
men did not move. They were afraid of the 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 105 

awful eyes and the thunder voice of the man in 
black. 

“Then the wizard made strange noises to the 
snake. The snake came to kill Nune and the 
man of the cross. The man reached under his 
robe and drew a machete. The machete flashed 
and the snake had no head. 

“The snake rolled and twisted. It struck the 
wizard and threw him down. It caught him 
around the neck. His tongue ran out and his 
face turned black. When the snake was still 
the wizard was still. He was killed by his dead 
snake. 

“The people were much afraid. They made 
this white man their new wizard. But he had, 
no magic. He would not make the rain come as 
a good sign for the hunting of heads. When he 
had learned the tongue of the Huambizas he 
told them they must stop killing. They must 
worship Piatzo. If they did not they would all 
be burned forever. But the Huambizas did not 
believe this. They killed more men and. they 
did not worship Piatzo, and they were not 
burned. So they said this man was no wizard, 
but a man with a demon. But they were afraid 
to kill him. His eyes were so terrible that no 
man dared to strike at him. And he said that 
if they should kill him Piatzo would kill them. 
They were not much afraid of Piatzo, but for a 
long time they did not harm this man. 

“Because he had taken Nune from the wizard 


io 6 THE KING OF NO MAN'S LAND 


and the snake, Nune now was his woman by 
Huambiza law. He did not want a woman. 
But Nune was not quite a woman yet, and he let 
her be his servant and live with him in the house 
of the dead wizard. He was kind. He taught 
Nune his language, which she learned very fast. 
He told her to call him Padre, and said he had 
come to her because he heard the drums calling 
him. 

“He asked if Nune remembered living any¬ 
where else. Nune said no. But she remem¬ 
bered what the wizard said, that she was not a 
Huambiza, but a white cat brought there from 
some other place. She told this to Padre. He 
said she must be a Spanish child, stolen perhaps 
from Macas. He was of Macas, and knew of 
several babies who had been lost from there 
with their mothers. But Nune could not re¬ 
member anything before being on the stream 
Kwana. 

“So Nune became a woman in the house of 
Padre. He was a good man and taught her 
much. He was kind to all the people, except 
when he was angered and shouted of the wrath 
of Piatzo. He could cast out demons with his 
cross and his staring eyes. He made men 'well 
who were sick. But he could not drive out his 
own demon or make his own mind well. Often 
in the night he would cry out that his brothers 
called him mad, and ask the Great Father why 
he must suffer so. And he would cry: ‘Mad, ye 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 107 

fools? It is you who are mad who stay com¬ 
fortably in Macas while the heathen await the 
Word. They will not come to you. The Word 
must go to them!’ And then he would groan, 
*0 Dios, how long?’ 

“Then he became sick. As he lay sick he 
taught Nune how to drive out demons, and how 
to put water on babies to save them from burn¬ 
ing forever, and other things. When he grew 
more strong he made men bring him a little gold, 
and with the gold he made a cross. He gave 
that cross to Nune and told her that by it she 
could carry on the work of Piatzo when he was 
gone. He felt that he soon would be there no 
more. That is how Nune got the cross which 
she now has. 

“Now the son of the curaca wanted Nune as 
before. But Nune would not have him. He had 
done nothing to save her from the wizard and 
the snake. And Padre told him in his thunder 
voice to leave Nune in peace. But one day Nune 
heard a great cry, and Padre was dead. The 
son of the curaca had shot an arrow into his 
back. Then he came leaping and cut off the 
head of Padre. And he took Nune by the hair, 
shouting that she now was his woman. 

“Be'fore he could drag Nune to his house 
there was a terrible yelling and men sprang 
from the forest all about. Arrows and spears 
flew and there was banging of guns. In a little 
time all the ITuambiza men were dead and their 


108 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

heads cut off. Nune and the other women and 
children were driven toward the river Upano. 
Some women who rebelled were killed and their 
heads taken. The head of Padre, too, was 
carried away. The men were Jiveros from be¬ 
yond the Upano, to the south. They now had 
won many Huambiza heads and were proud and 
glad. 

“They soon stopped because night came. In 
the night Nune crept to the sticks where the 
heads were, and took away the head of Padre. 
She carried it back to her sleeping place. She 
dug a hole with her fingers and buried the head, 
so that the Jiveros could not make it small with 
the others. She had to move as quietly as a 
snake, because all about were fires and men 
awake. But in the morning the head of Padre 
was safe. The men were very angry, but they 
could not find the head. Nune had covered the 
place so carefully that no sign was left. 

“Then they went on. At the Upano they 
stayed long enough to make the heads small. 
For two days and two nights they worked, with 
much dancing and shouting. While they did this 
Nune talked to other women who could swim.. 
She said they might escape if they would try 
hard. They were afraid. They said they would 
be killed. But Nune gave them faith. While 
it was very dark they made a run for the water. 
They jumped in, and the swift water carried 
them away. They swam far in the night. When 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 109 

day came they went up a stream at the rights 
They saw no more of the Jiveros. 

“Before long they found another Huambiza 
house. The other women took new men and 
lived there. But Nune wanted no man. She 
would go with the cross and the word of Piatzo, 
as Padre had told her to do. When the men 
said she must stay and become a mother, she 
told them she would put on them the curse of 
Piatzo and they would be killed by their 
enemies. 

“The other women who had been with her 
warned the men to take care. They said Nune 
was not like other women, but was under the 
protection of Piatzo, and Piatzo would kill any¬ 
one who hurt her. They told how Piatzo sent 
Padre to save Nune and how the wizard was 
then killed by his own snake. They told how 
Piatzo threw the Jiveros on the Huambizas as 
soon as the son of the curaca struck Padre^ 
They said even the head of Padre had been 
snatched by Piatzo in darkness from the head 
sticks. The men thought about this and grew 
afraid. Their curaca and their wizard talked. 
They agreed that Nune must not be harmed. 

“This word went about among other Huam¬ 
bizas. When Nune went to new Huambiza 
houses no man laid hand on her. She cast out 
devils and made men well and saved babies frofh 
fire as Padre had said. She did not try to make 
the men stop taking heads, because she knew 


no THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


they would not stop. Yet Piatzo gave his pro¬ 
tection to any Huambiza house where Nune 
stayed. No enemy struck at such a house when 
she was in it. 

“So Nune went up and down the Huambiza 
land. But she tired of seeing the little heads 
and thought of Macas, where she might 
have been born. So she went to Macas. There 
she found other men like Padre. They too were 
called Padre and wore black robes. She told 
them about the Padre she knew, and they asked 
many questions. They remembered him, and 
once one of them tapped his head, looking queer- 
ly at the others, and the others nodded. But 
they said he had died for the glory of Dios and 
would have great reward. And they said Nune 
was truly a servant of Piatzo, and that through 
her the ‘infieles’ might at last come to respect 
the cross. They thought she should go back 
and carry on her work. 

“But Nune liked Macas and would stay there. 
But she could find no one who knew her. And 
men laughed and called her Huambiza and 
white Indian and other things, and only the 
padres saved her from being a slave. So Nune 
did not like Macas longer. She went back to 
her own land.” 

For the first time the girl hesitated, as if de¬ 
bating what to say next. Her eyes strayed to 
the intent trio of North Americans, seeming 
to study their faces anew. The Spaniard’s lids 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


ur 


narrowed shrewdly. The room was silent until 
she resumed her narrative, bringing it to a 
rapid conclusion. 

“One day Nune went from a Huambiza house 
into the forest to find an herb. While she was 
there a great noise came from the place she had 
left. It was a fight. Soon came some Jiveros 
hurrying away with three Huambiza heads. 
They had struck at the place, but failed to cap¬ 
ture it. Many of them were hurt. They caught 
Nune and took her away. Nune had to go. 
She could not escape. They were very ugly and 
watched her closely. 

“They traveled fast until they reached a great 
house near the Pastasa. Then they quarreled 
about Nune. Each wanted her. The curaca 
said he would decide the matter. While they 
talked, another fight began in the forest. Men 
rushed out. The fight became very bad. Then 
it was over. Piatzo had sent new men to save 
Nune. You are those men.” 

Thus simply she closed her recital. The men 
stirred, glancing at one another and then look¬ 
ing again at her with frank admiration. Jose 
spoke first, still holding her with his piercing 
gaze. 

“You have spoken well. I see now that you 
are truly a priestess of Piatzo. Yet you have not 
told all.” 

Again that momentary hesitation was notice- 


112 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


able. Then, defensively, she countered: “What 
more is there to tell ?” 

“Perhaps little. Perhaps much. In the years 
since Nune became a woman she has been the 
woman of no man?” 

“It is so.” Her head lifted a trifle. 

“Has Nune never met the man she desired?” 

“That is a matter which must remain in the 
heart of Nune!” she retorted, with a flash of 
spirit. 

“Ah! Perhaps you are right. Let us put it 
in another way. Has Nune desired any man of 
the Huambizas or of the Jiveros?” 

“No.” 

“Has Nune found in the land of the Huam¬ 
bizas or of the Jiveros any man who is not one 
of them? A white man, perhaps?” 

This time the hesitation was even more pro¬ 
nounced. Her eyes darted to black-bearded, 
gray-eyed McKay. 

“Answer!” snapped Jose. 

“It is so,” she admitted. 

“Ah! Si! Now tell us of him.” 

Mutiny smoldered in the gaze she gave him. 

“You would find an enemy?” she demanded. 

“No. I would learn of a friend.” 

Another pause, while eye probed eye. Then 
her face cleared. 

“In a great house of the Huambizas between 
the river Morona and the river Paute,” she 
slowly said, “Nune knows a man who is a white 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 113 

Indian like herself. But he is not a Huambiza. 
He speaks the tongue of the white man and 
wears a black beard—like that of this man.” 
She motioned toward McKay. “Yet he speaks 
also Indian tongues. He talks the language of 
the Quichua Indians of the north, and of some 
nation to the south, and now he has learned the 
words of my own people. He says he is an In¬ 
dian from far down the Maranon, which there 
is called Amazon, and that he traveled many 
days to become one of the Huambizas. He has 
not been many moons in this country, but he 
now fights among the leaders on the raids. He 
owns a gun and is a strong fighter. But he kills 
only men, and will not shrink a head or carry 
away a woman. It is not the custom of his na-* 
tion to do this.” 

Jose, who at first had leaned forward expect¬ 
antly, now sat back and frowned as if perplexed. 

“Is he a white man or an Indian?” 

“He is a white man and an Indian, as Nune 
is a white woman and an Indian.” 

“Caramba! I do not understand this. He 
comes from the Amazon? Hm! Does he wear 
white-man clothing?” 

“No. He wears only the crotch cloth, like all 
Huambizas. He can make and shoot the bow 
and arrow, and call the monkeys, and do many 
other things no white man does. Yet he can 
do many white-man things also. And his gun 
is one that speaks fast, with yellow bullets.” 


11 4 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

Jose scowled all the more. Sudden light 
flashed into his face. 

“Nombre de Dios! That is it!” he breathed. 
“Quick, girl! Of what nation on the Amazon 
is this man? What is the color of his eyes? 
How is he called?” 

“He is of a nation called Mayoruna, on a 
river named Yavari. He is-” 

“Mayoruna!” ejaculated McKay. “Yavari! 
Those are the Mayoruna cannibals, and the Rio 
Javary, where we first found Dave!” 

“Si! But be quiet a moment longer, friend! 
Nune, go on! His eyes?” 

“His eyes are green. In his hair is a white 
mark over the left ear. He is called Rana.” 

Jose nodded, his mouth hardening. The 
Americans sat dazed. Slowly they turned and 
looked at one another, and back at Jose, and 
then blankly at nothing. 

“Cripes!” muttered Tim. “It’s him! Rana 
is Dave Rand! And he’s gone clean to the bad! 
Him, with all his brains and money, turned into 
a head-huntin’ Injun! My Gawd!” 



CHAPTER X 


A VOICE FROM THE WEST 

I HAVE feared something of this sort/’ said 
the king of the White Ones. 

“Do you mean to say you’ve suspected this 
right along?” demanded Knowiton. “And kept 
your mouth shut about it to us? Do you call 
that square?” 

“It is more square than to insinuate such a 
thing about Senor Dave when I did not know 
it to be true,” was the rather cool reply. “And 
I cannot say that I suspected it. Rather, I felt 
it—as a man vaguely feels that some evil thing 
is near him when he can neither see nor hear it. 
I did not wish to suspect it—I put the thought 
from me and told myself it could not be so.” 

He stared in a troubled way through the open 
doorway, beyond which the long shadows of 
approaching sunset stretched across the little 
acropolis. 

“This thing is more serious to me than to 
you,” he went on. “And this the way of it: 

“A little time ago the word came to me that 
among the Huambizas was a man who was in% 
creasing their power and making them more 
fierce in their raiding. I could learn very little 


ii6 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


about this man, for the talk was vague and came 
from some newly captured Jivero women, who 
knew only the rumor which had drifted into the 
Jivero region. But the report was that this 
man was a very light Huambiza with a black 
beard—the lighter Huambizas often have such 
beards—who fought with a gun and was very 
deadly. It was said also that the Huambizas 
now were raiding in larger parties and going 
farther, and this was said to be because of this 
man’s planning. That was all I could learn. 

“Now the great secret of my strength in this 
land is the fact that my White Ones are organ¬ 
ized and that the shrinkers of heads are not. As 
I have said, the Jivero nation is made up of 
four great tribes—the Jiveros themselves, the 
Huambizas, the Antipas, and the Aguarunas— 
who have the same language and customs; but 
instead of standing together they kill one an¬ 
other. Inside the tribes there is much the same 
lack of unity, although there is not so much kill¬ 
ing. Each settlement is generally alone and a 
long way from the next, and its curaca has no 
power over the next place, and sometimes very 
little control of his own men. There are times 
when a great number of men will come together 
for a certain raid, but that is not often; and 
as soon as it is over they scatter to their own 
places. All this is much in my favor. I can 
strike a certain place, destroy it, move on, and 
destroy others in turn. So I can make every 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 117 

blow deadly and lose few of my own men. I 
cannot afford to lose men; my nation is not yet 
large enough to stand much loss. 

“My greatest danger, then, is that my ene¬ 
mies will come together and make up too strong 
a force to be conquered. That would mean the 
end of my people. So, when I hear of the 
Huambizas increasing the size of their war par¬ 
ties and the power of their attacks, it is a mat¬ 
ter of great concern to me. You all have been 
soldiers. You realize what I must do.” 

“Smash the enemy before he can get set,” 
nodded McKay. “But see here-” 

“Wait. Let me say it all and have done 
with it. Now I have not yet struck at the 
Huambizas, because they are farther away than 
the Jiveros, and I naturally attack the enemy 
nearest to me. Also, they help me without 
meaning to do so, by killing Jiveros at the west 
and south while I fight from the east and north. 
The Jiveros are between us. In the natural 
course it would be years—perhaps ten, perhaps 
more—before I should be ready to attack the 
Huambizas. But if some man is building the 
Huambizas into a solid fighting force I cannot 
wait. I must cross the Jivero country, go into 
the Huambiza land, find this new peril, and 
smash it before it is organized strongly enough 
to strike at me!” 

“How would you find it?” objected Knowl- 
ton. “Like hunting a needle in a haystack.” 



n8 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


“Not so, Teniente,” Jose differed, with a 
grim smile. “I shall find a guide.” 

McKay glanced significantly at Nune. 

“Maybe she-” he suggested. 

“No. She would not guide us. She is no 
fool, and she would know our war party meant 
no good. Can you not see that she is in love 
with Sehor Dave? I knew she was protecting 
some one at the last of her tale, and, since she 
had avoided mentioning the leader of whom I 
had heard, it must be he. Yet I am sore at 
heart to find that this Huambiza leader is Dave. 

“I did not know he had come back until you 
told me so at the Jivero house. Then the 
thought of the Huambiza leader flashed into 
my head. But I told myself that it could not 
be he, and when the thought kept coming back 

I would not believe it. But now-” He 

shrugged. 

The three looked gloomily at nothing. 
Finally Knowlton said, as if the words were 
dragged out of him: “His mind’s gone back on 
him again. You remember, fellows, when we 

first found Dave he was-” He left the 

sentence unfinished. 

McKay arose and began pacing up and down, 
stiff backed, soldierly, silent, his brow wrinkled 
in unpleasant thought. Tim stared dolefully at 
the table, then crashed a fist down on it. 

“Crazy like a fox!” he gruffly disputed. 
“Lookit here! Dave’s so slick you guys don’t 





THE KING OF NO MAN'S LAND 119 

git what he’s doin’. He was an Injun five years, 
yeah. Crazy, sure, he was, but when he got his 
brains runnin’ right he didn’t forgit his Injun 
stuff. We seen that, when he come up the Tigre 
with us afterwards. All that oY jungle stuff o’ 
his was right on tap when he wanted to use it. 
Now he’s usin’ it! Makes these dummies think 
he’s a white Injun and plays the game with ’em, 
so’s to git the dope he come down here for. 
The boy’s clever, I’ll tell the world!” 

“So clever that he lost all his equipment and 
his Quichua packers,” dryly retorted McKay. 

“Um! Begorry, ye’re right! I forgot about 
that.” Tim relapsed into silence. 

Nune moved. McKay, striding back and 
forth, was approaching her again. She stepped 
before him. 

“Man with the black beard,” she said, “does 
this white chief with the face of a hawk speak 
true? Do you seek in the land of my people a 
friend? Is Rana that friend, or is he your 
enemy?” 

McKay met her questing gaze with a look 
searching, yet kindly. 

“Rana is the man we seek,” he answered. 
“He has been our friend, and we have sought 
him because we thought him to be lost. Now 
the great white chief feels that Rana has be¬ 
come his enemy. Yet we are still the friends of 
Rana, and we would reach him and have a talk 
with him. Is Rana the friend of Nune?” 


120 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


“It is so,” she replied, with direct simplicity. 
“Rana is a great fighting man and terrible to 
his enemies. Yet he is kind to Nune and the 
heart of Nune turns to him.” 

“And why did not Rana protect Nune from 
capture by the Jiveros?” 

“He did not know. Nune was alone in the 
forest.” 

“So. Now Nune has spoken of returning to 
her own people. She would go back to Rana?” 

“It is so.” 

“And will Nune lead us to Rana, that we may 
talk with him?” 

She eyed him doubtfully. 

“It is a long journey,” she temporized. “And 
you are not friends to the men of the forest. 
They would not let you pass through to the 
place where Rana can be found.” 

“Then they must die. We must reach Rana.” 

“If you reach Rana,” she challenged, “what 
comes after ? Why would you talk with Rana ?” 

“Rana is not a Huambiza. He must return 
to his own people.” 

“His people are the Mayorunas of the Ya« 
van. He has said so. You are not men of the 
jungle. What have you to do with him and his 
people?” 

“Rana must return to his own people!” re¬ 
peated McKay. 

The girl’s eyes flashed. 

“Then Nune will not lead you to him! What 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 121 

Rana shall do is for Rana alone to decide. He 
came to us because he wished. He stays with us 
because he will. He is a man and knows his 
mind. You are not his friends! You would 
catch him and carry him away. Nune will live 
and die a slave among Jiveros before she will 
lead you to kill her people and catch Rana!” 

With that she turned from him and defiantly 
faced Jose, who was cynically watching the col¬ 
loquy. 

“And that’s that!” commented Knowlton, 
with a faint smile. “Might have known it.” 

“Yeah. And the kid’s dead right,” grunted 
Tim. “ ’Tain’t none of our funeral, at that. 
Dave come here on his own. He never asked 
us to come buttin’ in. Seems to be takin’ good 
care of himself, too; too danged good to suit 
Hozy, anyways. And if I was him and this li’P 
lady was mine, anybody that tried to yank me 
out o’ here before I got ready to go would find 
himself up against a man-sized job, whether he 
was a friend o’ mine or not. Looks like we’d 
better haul in our horns and beat it.” 

McKay and Knowlton glowered at him. Yet 
they could not deny that he was speaking the 
blunt truth. In the last analysis, the doings of 
David Rand were the business only of David 
Rand—at least, until they should become a men¬ 
ace to others. It was Jose, whose little king¬ 
dom already seemed to be menaced by those 
activities, who disagreed. 


122 THE KING OF NO MAN'S LAND 


“Unfortunately I cannot pull in my horns,” 
he reminded them. “I have set myself to do 
here a piece of work, and I cannot allow the 
Huambizas to grow strong enough to wreck it. 
Before long I must act. And, whether Senor 
Dave likes it or not, comrades, if he cannot be 
made to see reason he must be caught and car¬ 
ried away as the girl says. Otherwise he will be 
killed.” 

“Who by? You?” demanded Tim. 

The Spaniard’s face hardened again. 

“If necessary—by me! It is much more likely 
that he will be killed by the savages. They 
are treacherous as snakes. Let him become 

hated by any one of them, and in the night-’’ 

He flicked a finger across his throat. “And if 
they spare him long, I cannot. Any man who 
joins the enemies of my people becomes my own 
enemy, and must be treated as one. And a white 
man who joins hunters of heads—caramba! he 
is no more a white man! Before Senor Dave, 
amigos, are only two ends—capture or death.” 

Studying his grim jaw and inexorable eyes, 
the North Americans knew this son of the re¬ 
lentless Conquistadores would fulfil his threat 
to the letter. Like his indomitable forefathers, 
he would crush all obstacles to the achievement 
of his task. He would swerve for none. Nor, 
in all fairness, could he. Not merely his per¬ 
sonal ambition, but the fate of his growing 
nation, was at stake. He was attempting a far 



THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 123 

greater work than had his ancestors—not to loot 
and destroy a primitive civilization, but to create 
such a civilization in a stronghold of the most 
abysmal savagery of the world. His sword 
could know no friend. 

Yet, as he turned again to Nune, his tone was 
kindly. 

“Nune, you have spoken well,” he said. “You 
are a brave girl. You shall not be a slave among 
Jiveros, nor among any others. You shall re¬ 
main on this rock, in the house of the women, 
with all honor. For a time you must stay here. 
Do not try to go away, for it cannot be done. 
But I promise you once more that in time you 
shall return to your own people if you will. 
Until that time you shall be more safe among us 
than you would be among the Huambizas. Now 

A sudden glow swept her face; but she made 
no answer. Toward the doorway, now grow¬ 
ing shadowy in the swiftly gathering dusk, she 
turned. Then Tim halted her. 

“Noonayl” he called, rising as he spoke. 
Then, to the others: “Grrrumph! Gittin* dark. 
She might step on a snake or somethin’. I’ll jest 
trail along to see she gits there safe. Come on, 
girlie. Grab a holt o’ the big man’s arm. 
That’s right. Vamos, Senorita—soy un buen 
hombre— I’m a reg’lar feller-” 

Aggressively he marched out, the amazed 
Nune clinging to the arm on which he had mas- 



124 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

terfully put her hand—startled, but by no means 
alarmed, or even displeased. In fact, something 
very much like a girlish giggle sounded as they 
passed through the portal. And, behind them, 
the glum-faced men broke suddenly into a roar 
of mirth. 

“By the Virgin!” chuckled Jose. “This girl 
of the head-hunters might not be able to pass 
unescorted to the house of my wives, no? She 
might step on a worm or— Ha! ha! ha! 
Caramba! it is time something happened to 
make us laugh, friends. Our faces are as long 
as crocodiles.” 

“It’s no use, Tim,” called Knowlton. “These 
jungle girls don’t know what a kiss means.” 

“Zat so? Well, they might learn,” floated 
back Tim’s retort. “Don’t let ’em bother ye, 
Noony. They’re a gang o’ rough-necks. Now, 
me, I’m different— Aw, rats, I forgot ye dun- 

no English. Mira, savvy un beso-” The 

voices grew indistinct. 

“Un beso, eh?” echoed McKay. “Naughty, 
naughty! He’s asking for a kiss already. And 
she a priestess 1” 

“Well, God loves the Irish, so why shouldn’t 
an amateur priestess? And maybe he’ll convert 
her. If he should teach her something about 
kisses, she might change her mind about return¬ 
ing to the Huambizas.” 

“Por Dios! and that is not such a joke,” 
grinned Jose. “Her blood is Spanish, beyond a 



THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 125 

doubt; and the girls of my race are likely to be 
swift to love when a man rouses them. The 
man who is far away may be quickly forgotten 
if the one who is near is a—ah-” 

“Fast worker,” supplied Knowlton. “And 
Tim’s all of that. Dave might lose out, after 
all. Hm! Come to think of it—I wonder if 
she’s the reason why Dave’s turned Huambiza! 
What do you think, Rod?” 

McKay shook his head. 

“Doubt it. He’s hard boiled. Could have 
taken his pick from a dozen society girls up 
home if he’d felt like it. Peaches, too.” 

“That doesn’t prove anything. More than 
one fellow has passed up society dolls and fallen 
for a native girl.” 

“True. But she herself says he has only been 
kind to her. He hasn’t fallen for her. It’s the 
other way around.” 

“M'-m, yes, you’re right. Which leaves Dave 
without an excuse. What in the devil’s gotten 
into the man, anyway?” 

McKay shrugged and made no answer. 

The gloom now was rapidly deepening. Jose 
clapped his hands, and from the rear came an 
attendant bearing a torch. She passed about 
the room, lighting a number of palm-oil lamps. 
A soft glow lit up the place. 

“Let food be brought, and wine,” command¬ 
ed Jose. The girl withdrew. “And, my friends, 



126 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


let us be merry again. We know that Senor 
Dave lives, and that is much. We shall try to— 
Hola!” 

The tapping of a spear haft at the doorway 
halted his speech. At his bidding, the spearman 
entered, leaving his weapon outside. Behind 
him came a lean man, breathing fast and glis¬ 
tening with sweat, who drew from one ear-lobe 
a slender section of cane. This he handed 
silently to Jose. 

A moment, and the Spaniard had extracted 
from the little tube a rolled paper. As he read 
the contents a scowl gathered on his brow. A 
muttered exclamation broke from him. Again 
he read the note. Then he questioned the mes¬ 
senger, who showed every sign of a long, hard 
run. 

Some minutes passed in question and answer. 
Jose stared thoughtfully at the outer dark. A 
brief, decisive order terminated the conversa¬ 
tion. The pair strode out and turned toward 
the houses behind. 

A moment, and the boom of the big tunday 
roared through the night. From afar floated 
an answer. Curt, authoritative, the home drum 
thumped a message. A pause, and the distant 
log began beating out the same cadence, note 
for note. At its completion Jose nodded. 

Heavy steps without, and Tim entered on the 
run. 

“What’s up, Kink? Got a fight cornin’ off?” 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 127 

he demanded, hopefully. “Yer cannon busted 
up me taty-tate with the liT priest—I was git- 
tin’ religion fast, too. What’s doin’?” 

“I wish I could tell you, amigo. I shall not 
know until we receive another visitor, whom I 
have ordered brought here. All I now know is 
that the country which hounded me out of it 
now speaks to me again. There has come a 
voice from the south and west—from Peru. 

“Since I left that Peru beyond the mountains 
no man has heard my full name. So no man 
knows it except those beyond the mountains, 
and to them I have long been lost. Yet now 
comes this note, brought to my men by a Peru¬ 
vian Indian, who says the writer of it waits alone 
at the Pastasa for a reply.” 

Translating, he read: 

“Senor Don Jose Guillermo Monagas Martinez: 

“With fervent wishes for your good health . . . (and so 
on) ... I have the honor of requesting a conference with 
you at your most immediate convenience concerning a mat¬ 
ter of the most great international importance. I have 
travelled many leagues and undergone many hardships in 
my effort to fulfill my orders in this regard, and I beg your 
most kind consideration. 

“I have the honor to sign myself 

Your faithful servitor who kisses your hands, 

Manuel V. D. R. Montez, 
Lieutenant, Peruvian Force of Security 
of the East ” 


CHAPTER XI 


THE MESSENGER 

I N the hall which Jose and his partners had 
hitherto used as dining room and council 
place the king of the White Ones now sat in 
state. He and his people and his Northern 
guests awaited the arrival of the man from 
Peru. 

Four more days had drifted past while the 
mysterious envoy, guided by men sent from the 
farthest outpost, made his way up into the hills. 
His progress had been reported by brief mes¬ 
sages relayed through the tunday telegraph, and 
now he was close at hand. In the interim the 
visitors had rested from the toil of jungle travel, 
roamed about the settlement, and viewed the 
workings of the kingdom arising on the ruins of 
a lost city. 

Wherever they passed along the byways, they 
had found vestiges of that people whose very 
name had vanished into the mists of time. Stone 
heaps, thickly overgrown by tropical tangle 
but still revealing mossy corners or edges of 
square-cut blocks, were met at every few rods— 
mute monuments to a destroyed civilization and 
128 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND- 129 

to the awful power of the still smoldering vol¬ 
canic giants in the west. Only a short distance 
from each of these ruins was usually a palm- 
wood house and a small plantation of the pres¬ 
ent inhabitants, each beside a cold, clear little 
stream, and surrounded by fruit trees which 
obviously had belonged to the people dwelling 
in the houses of stone. Despite the prevalence 
of brooks, there were few mosquitoes, as the 
water was always in motion toward a central 
creek possessing a subterranean outlet and stag¬ 
nant pools were virtually nonexistent. The air, 
too, was constantly moving in fresh breezes, and 
in the shade of the trees it was delightfully cool. 
The healthfulness of the location could hardly 
be surpassed. At no place did the ramblers see 
man, woman, or child who showed the slightest 
sign of sickness. 

Everywhere the plantation work was done by 
the Jivero women, always under guard. Yet 
the observers saw no sign of harshness in their 
treatment, and at times they found the workers 
laughing over some simple incident of their toil. 
They began to suspect that, for his own pur¬ 
poses, Jose had vastly exaggerated to Nune the 
severity with which these prisoners were treated. 
Certainly they looked sleek and strong, and 
they worked in leisurely fashion. Few of them 
were visible at the homes, where the household 
tasks seemed to be carried on by the women of 
the White Ones. The only idlers there were 


1 3 o THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

the mothers of tiny babes, and even these were 
usually keeping an eye on older children. 

The warriors of the place, though now at 
home with no new raid in immediate prospect, 
were by no means lolling about. Some were 
found carefully instructing boys in fighting 
craft. Others were seen, in small parties, bring¬ 
ing home heavy loads of game killed outside the 
valley. Still others were met maneuvering in 
simulated war movements, directed by chiefs or 
subchiefs. 

Once, in passing along an apparently empty 
path, the three suddenly found themselves sur¬ 
rounded by a dozen men, armed with machetes, 
who had leaped like jaguars from the bush and 
caught them flat-footed. One of them was the 
grinning Curac, who, by a few Spanish words 
and expressive gestures, explained that it was a 
joking test of his men; they had seen the visitors 
coming, and he had ordered the ambush in order 
to see which of them was quickest. The Ameri¬ 
cans, who had instinctively reached for their 
side-arms, laughed and inwardly thanked their 
stars that they had left their gun belts on the 
rock; for the sudden menace of a gun might 
have precipitated an automatic retaliation con¬ 
verting the jest into earnest. Even the jokes of 
these people, it was evident, sprang from the 
one fixed motive of their every thought and act 
—war. 

On the first morning after their arrival, too, 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 131 

they witnessed another proof of the soldierly 
qualities of the men and of the grip on them 
of their ruler. Before the house gathered a 
number of warriors with complaints, grievances, 
or problems for settlement in court; and, seated 
in his tall chair, Jose heard each case. There 
was no wrangling, no argument, no apparent 
animosity; each man stated his side in straight¬ 
forward fashion and awaited judgment. In 
each instance Jose considered a moment before 
giving his verdict, then gave it briefly and 
finally. The men faced about and withdrew 
without a word. Their king had spoken; that 
ended the matter. 

The brusqueness of the departure of these 
men moved Tim, when the session ended, to 
lodge a humorous complaint against the sim¬ 
plicity of the Spaniard’s rule. 

“Hozy, this here kingdom o’ yourn ain’t 
classy enough,” he declared. “Lookit them fel¬ 
lers, now; they turn their backs on ye like ye 
was nobody. Ye’d oughter train ’em to bump 
their cocos nine times on the floor and go backin’ 
out with a nose-bleed in honor o’ yer majesty. 
And ye’d oughter wear a gold stovepipe crown 
and a long giddy nightshirt and set away up on 
a throne with steps to it and some o’ these here 
undressed girls layin’ round on the steps, and a 
skipper in yer hand—” 

“A what?” snickered Knowlton. 


132 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

“A skipper. Ye know, a kind of a club the 
king holds out to make ’em skip—” 

“Oh! A scepter. Go on.” 

“Yeah. And a lot o’ dancin’ girls, kink; ye 
sure oughter have them. Kind o’ jazz up the 
place, y’understand. Now it ain’t nothin’ but 
an army camp.” 

“Quite true, friend—that is all it is,” laughed 
Jose. “And though my men turn their backs 
to me, they do not turn them to the enemy; and 
I would rather have them knock other men on 
the head than knock their own on the floor. As 
for the other things, I do not care to bother 
with them. Yet I have a crown somewhere— 
or had one. I must ask Huarma to find it, for 
I mean to wear it when Lieutenant Manuel 
Montez arrives. Whoever he is, he is a pair 
of eyes for the land beyond the mountains, and 
when he comes I shall give him something to 
look at.” 

And now, with the stranger at his gate, Jose 
was keeping his promise. At first sight of him 
that morning Tim gasped. 

“Hot dog! Look who’s here!” he ejacu¬ 
lated. “The king o’ the Cannibal Islands, and 
then some! Kink, I take back every danged 
word I said. Ye’re the goods. Who dressed 
ye ?” 

“My wives,” chuckled Jose. 

“Faith, ye look it.” 

“But, no, it is unfair to blame my wives for 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 133 

this. I had these things made to wear once each 
year at a fiesta of my people. It pleases them 
at that time to see their king shine. Now I 
have simply put them on again to impress the 
visitor.” 

“Ye’ll knock his eye out, I’ll tell the world.” 

Compared with the plain garments he had 
hitherto worn, the present raiment of King Jose 
was indeed brilliant. His shirt and trousers 
were of priceless feather-work, the golden 
breast feathers of toucans having been woven 
so cunningly into a web of bark cloth that from 
throat to ankles he seemed a golden idol. Only 
at his waist was there a contrasting shade, and 
it was striking—a crimson sash, formed by the 
use of red feathers instead of yellow ones. 
Whatever the red and yellow may have meant 
to the White Ones, they were also the colors 
of Spain. The crown now resting on the poten¬ 
tate’s glossy black hair, too, was Spanish and 
not Indian; for whereas an Indian chief would 
surely have worn tall plumes, this man carried 
on his head only a broad band of beaten gold. 
And the lean, deep-eyed, . eagle-featured face 
between golden feathers and golden crown was 
that not only of a Spaniard, but of a Conquista¬ 
dor. For all his jungle panoply, he was every 
inch a white man; and, for all his jesting, the 
proud set of his head was that of a man whose 
word was law. 

“I shall give him something to think about,” 


134 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

he answered Tim. “Every man of mine within 
this place is to show himself, with all his 
weapons, somewhere along the path where the 
lieutenant shall walk—not as if set there to be 
seen, but as if he were only one of many more 
farther back. When he has passed, they are to 
slip along back paths and gather in the cleared 
space ahead of him, so that he may see what 
seems to be another big force of fighters. I am 
borrowing a trick from the Jiveros, every one 
of whom always yells in several different tones 
in attacking a place, so that their force seems 
much greater than it is. If this man in truth 
comes to speak of international matters, he 
shall carry back a tale of a nation that shall 
make his superiors think.” 

Presently, from the cliffs to the north floated 
two strokes of the tunday. 

“He enters,” said Jose. “No, do not go. 
You shall be a part of the play, if you wish. 
Sit about the table. You are—let me see—my 
ambassadors from America, England, and— 
ah—” 

“Ireland,” finished Tim. “Only don’t tell me 
which o’ these other guys is the Englishman. I 
don’t want to scrap with either of ’em.” 

Bantering one another, they lounged at ease 
until there came a sound at the door. Through 
it stalked ten tall warriors, wearing high bon¬ 
nets of parrot plumes and swinging long lances 
of polished chonta-wood tipped with steel. 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 135 

They were the reserve members of the guard— 
the men who never left the rock. Without 
orders, they ranged themselves behind Jose-, 
grounded their spear hafts, and stood motion¬ 
less—a strikingly effective barbaric background 
to the golden king. The white men straight¬ 
ened up. From the direction of the path came 
the faint slither of other bare feet. Then 
entered the harsh-faced Aillu, carrying a rifle. 
Behind him came a bronzed, thin-faced, travel- 
stained Spaniard, followed by half a dozen 
more of the Sumatara warriors. The latter 
stopped at the door. 

Aillu, retaining the rifle—which was not his 
own, but that of the newcomer—halted at the 
foot of the table. The Peruvian slowed. Jose 
and his mates, seated about the head of the 
great board, arose. 

“Bienvenido—welcome!” spoke the king, 
with quiet dignity. “You have come far. Will 
you rest and eat before you speak of your 
business?” 

For a moment the other stopped and stared. 
The striking figure of the king, backed by his 
bonneted guards, evidently had made a deep 
impression. But then, with a bold swagger that 
might have been copied from Jose himself in 
some moods, he advanced again. 

“Gracias. But no,” he answered. “I have 
been long on the way, and I shall rest better 
when my word is said.” 


136 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

His voice was metallic, his thin lips a bit 
cruel, his black eyes keen and calculating, his 
gaze unwinking. In one quick sweep he took in 
the three North Americans. Those three, siz¬ 
ing him up in turn, felt that the trick of Jose in 
exhibiting—and multiplying—his force had not 
been wasted. The black eyes were spying every¬ 
thing within their range. 

“Bien. As you will,” replied Jose. “Sit and 
say on.” 

He sat down. So did the Americans. But 
Montez, before availing himself of the seat 
beside him, drew from an inner pocket a small 
rubber envelope and laid it before Jose. 

“From my commander/’ he explained, “to 
show that I am who I say I am.” 

With that he sat down as if somewhat weary« 

“Bueno. Have you a knife, Rodrigo? This 
is sealed.” 

McKay’s pocket knife slit the flap of the 
waterproofed container. From it Jose drew a 
folded sheet. As he perused it the girl Saquina 
appeared from the rear, bearing the wine jar 
and a clay cup, which she placed beside the vis¬ 
itor. While she poured a cupful of wine the 
eyes of Montez dwelt on her comely face and 
half-nude figure. His thin lips stretched a trifle, 
and as she walked gracefully away his intent 
gaze followed her. Jose, glancing up, caught 
on his face an expression that made his own 
eyes quickly narrow. 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 137 

“Perfectamente,” he dryly remarked. “The 
letter is perfectly correct. Coronel Teofilo 
Ramirez—of whom I never have heard—intro¬ 
duces you as one bearing words which you will 
communicate to me, and asks my courtesy to 
you and your men. Where are the men?” 

Montez, with ai flourish toward his host, 
gulped the wine and licked his lips. 

“Dead,” he callously replied. “We were 
twelve—I and two soldados and nine Indios. 
Now we are one teniente—myself—and one 
Indio. We met some Jiveros.” 

“Si ? That is a pity. By what way did you 
come?” 

“We came up the Morona, then by land to 
Canelos. It was on the land march that we 
were in trouble. I shall not return by that way, 
but by the Pastasa. It was necessary first to 
visit Canelos in order to learn how best to find 
you.” 

“And they told you?” 

“Si,” grinned Montez. “You are not loved 
there, Don Jose. I let them believe that I 
sought to capture you—alive or dead—and they 
sped me on my way. These senores are the 
Norte Americanos of whom I was told?” 

“We are,” growled McKay. “Were you to 
kill or capture us also?” 

“No quiera Dios! God forbid! It was not 
known that you had reached Don Jose. You 
were spoken of. That is all.” 


138 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

He stared boldly at them, and they stared 
straight back, leaving the next move to Jose. 
He soon made it. 

“What is this matter of such great impor¬ 
tance?” he asked. “I cannot understand why 
the commander of a Peruvian force should send 
a man to me, who am not a Peruvian.” 

The stare of Montez widened and became 
blank. 

“Not a Peruvian!” he ejaculated. “Not— 
are you not the Jose Martinez to whom that 
letter is addressed?” 

“The name is mine. But to Peru I am dead. 
I now am King Jose, ruler of my own land; the 
land which belongs to neither Peru nor Ecuador, 
but to the White Ones, whom I rule.” 

Montez leaned again on the table, grinning 
in relief. Deliberately he poured another drink. 
When the cup again was empty he looked Jose 
squarely in the eye and moved his head signifi¬ 
cantly toward the Americans. 

“You have touched on the very matter of 
w r hich I mean to speak,” he said. “And per¬ 
haps it would be to your liking to talk more 
privately.” 

“These are my friends. Whatever is to be 
said can be said before them.” 

“Bien. Then I must mention that some years 
ago an unfortunate misunderstanding came 
about between you and Don Francisco Pecoro 
Torrico, after which Don Francisco—died. It 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 139 

was just after his death that you came east¬ 
ward—” 

“You are forgetting something. Three other 
men died—ail at once; three assassins hired by 
the greasy Francisco to murder me. Then 
Francisco, after firing twice at me, died also.” 

“Ah yes. I had forgotten the other three; 
they were of no importance. But Don Fran¬ 
cisco was of such position in the government 
that you very wisely departed. The officials 
were greatly vexed about the matter—particu¬ 
larly the brother of the deceased, the General 
Diego Leon Torrico; so that the army was in¬ 
structed to shoot you if possible. But, fortu¬ 
nately, it was not possible. 

“Now, time makes great changes, Don Jose. 
Some time ago General Torrico died. New 
officials have been appointed since the last elec¬ 
tion. And it has been learned that you are 
alive. After living for years in this horrible 
wilderness, you are, without doubt, yearning to 
return to your home and friends and live as a 
gentleman should. We feel that some injustice 
may have been done—yes, that Don Francisco 
received only* what he deserved. So, if you wish 
to co-operate with the government, I can prom¬ 
ise you that the Torrico matter will be forgot¬ 
ten. And, more than that, I am empowered to 
offer you the commission of capitan in the army 
of Peru!” 


CHAPTER XII 


THE LURE 

F OR a moment Jose sat like a golden image. 

Behind him, stark and motionless, the 
spearmen stood like attendant statues. McKay 
and Knowlton and Tim, to whom the outlaw 
had so recently confessed his heart hunger for 
the land he had left behind him, turned their 
eyes to his face. Jose himself stared straight 
down the board, at whose foot stood his stony- 
featured captain, Aillu. And Aillu, understand¬ 
ing none of the words, but sensing the develop¬ 
ment of something affecting his king, leaned 
forward with eyes glued to his commander. 

Perhaps it was the sight of that devoted veter¬ 
an’s tense readiness that steadied Jose in the 
face of this staggering offer. At any rate, when 
he spoke it was in a dry tone giving no hint of 
its effect on him. 

“Your letter spoke of matters of international 
importance. I see nothing of such importance 
in this offer. And the offer itself comes rather 
late.” 

A shade of disappointment passed over the 
other Spanish face. Such a nonchalant recep- 
140 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 141 

tion of his craftily dramatic announcement was 
obviously unexpected and unwelcome to Montez. 
But he proceeded without delay to place his 
cards on the table. 

“I have told you first the thing which seemed 
most likely to interest you,” he said, “for all of 
us are interested first in our own fortunes, yes? 
But now I shall speak of the matter which, as 
you shall see, is of importance to at least two 
governments. 

“You have just said, Don Jose, that this land 
east of the Andes and north of the Amazon 
belongs to neither Peru nor Ecuador. But there 
are other minds which do not agree to that. 
As you know, Ecuador claims that all this land 
is its Provincia del Oriente, or Eastern Prov¬ 
ince, and that our Peru owns nothing north of 
the Amazon. But we of Peru do not allow this, 
and our government places our northern bound¬ 
ary at the Rio Yapura, north of the Rio 
Putumayo. And again, the government of 
Colombia does not agree to this, but swears 
that the Yapura and all the upper Putumayo 
belong to Colombia. So all this great land 
between the Andes and the Amazon, of more 
than two hundred thousand square miles, rich 
in gold and rubber and precious medical roots 
and priceless woods and other things, is always 
in dispute. 

“Now, because of the difficulties of travel and 
the hostility of the accursed Indios, no settle- 


142 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

ment of this Oriente has been possible, and 
because there was no settlement of the land 
there was no decision of the dispute. But of 
late this insolent Ecuador has been making 
moves which show she intends to bring it under 
her control. So we of Peru also are making 
moves.” 

He paused, shrewdly scanning the four lis¬ 
teners. None spoke or betrayed more than 
casual interest. So he resumed his statement. 

“This Ecuador is moving to conquer the land 
by overcoming the hardships of travel. She is 
moving through the mountains with a railroad, 
which already has been built as far as Pelileo, 
and which she means to bring through the forest 
to that miserable pueblo of Canelos; and if it 
is ever completed she probably will make Cane¬ 
los a large town and try to run boats on the 
Rio Bobonaza and the Pastasa to the Amazon. 
So this little kingdom of yours will then be 
under the power of Ecuador, and you yourself 
may take orders from a louse-eating Indian gov¬ 
ernor put over you by the so-great Cortes of 
Ecuador!” 

This stab struck home. Red wrath shot 
across the face of the outlaw king. For a 
moment he glared. But he controlled himself. 

“I think not,” he said, in a tone of repressed 
passion. “Go on.” 

“Bien. There are other signs, too, of what 
Ecuador means to do. We have learned that 


143 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

only recently there have been men in the Napo 
region seeking signs of oil. They were Norte 
Americanos. And it may be of interest to you, 
Don Jose, that the railroad creeping toward 
you is the work of Norte Americanos. The 
Norte Americanos and Ecuador work together 
to conquer this Oriente for what they may 
gain.” Once more he glanced at the three for¬ 
eigners. “Perhaps, Don Jose, I am late in 
reaching you, and these senores from the west 
have already—” There he paused. 

The implication was offensively plain, and so 
was its purpose: to arouse in the mind of Jose 
distrust of these three Norte Americanos, whose 
business here was unknown to Montez. Mc¬ 
Kay glowered and moved as if to rise. Jose 
turned to him. 

“Do not honor him by noticing him, Rod¬ 
rigo,” he said in English. “Let him think what 
he likes.” To Montez he said: “You are quite 
wrong. Talk of things which you know.” 

“No offense is intended, senores!” Montez 
hastened to cover up his false step. “I have 
only the welfare of my country at heart, and I 
know that Ecuador is reaching, always reaching. 
Let me go on. 

“We of Peru have better sight than Ecuador. 
We know that the greatest trouble is not in the 
matter of travel—although that is indeed bad— 
but in the overcoming of the savages; for they 
can destroy any road, any boat, and the men 


144 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

who travel on it. So we begin at the other end 
of the difficulty. Already we control the north 
bank of the Amazon—all its towns are Peru¬ 
vian. We are a humane people” (he smirked) 
“and we have long tried to become friendly with 
the Indios. We have tried too long. Now we 
tire of it. You, Don Jose, must know what 
became of Borja, on the Amazon, before you 
and I were born.” 

The king nodded, with a rather bored air. 

“Ah yes, of course,” he said. “The Peruvian 
government established there a colony of sev¬ 
eral hundred people, with everything complete, 
and with a river steamer for communication 
with Iquitos. Within a few months the Hu- 
ambizas attacked it and killed or carried away 
every inhabitant. Even the houses were de¬ 
stroyed. That was about sixty years ago.” 

“It is so. And the condition is the same 
to-day as it was then. I am of the outpost 
established near the Morona by our government 
to hold that land under the Peruvian flag—but I 
am not of the first force sent there. That first 
troop was visited by the Huambiza snakes. 
They came pretending friendship. The capitan 
of the troop was so deceived by them that he 
showed the leader of the Indios how to use his 
gun. And that chief shot the capitan with his 
own weapon, and the other Indios killed all the 
troop and carried off their heads. That was 
about ten years ago—in February of 1913— 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 145 

and since that time they have tried to play the 
same trick on us; for we hold the same place 
where that other troop was massacred. But 
we are not so simple, and we still live. 

“Now it is very plain that those barbaros 
never can be trusted and always will hold back 
our country from taking what belongs to her. 
So there is only one way to handle them. And 
that, Don Jose, is what brings me to you. It 
seems that your wisdom and clear sight are 
greater than those of our commanders beyond 
the mountains, and that you have already done 
the thing of which they have only talked; that 
is, to make war on the barbaros and continue it 
without mercy. It is only recently that we have 
heard of you—” 

“In what way?” Jose cut in. 

“From a trader, one Pepe Otero, who knew 
you years ago and since then has sold you guns 
and cartridges.” 

“Ah! So Pepe talks. He will sell me noth¬ 
ing more. But Pepe knows nothing of my life 
beyond the mountains.” 

“True. But he knows your appearance and 
your name of Jose Martinez, and it happens 
that we have an excellent description of the 
Don Jose Martinez who—ah—caused Don 
Francisco Torrico to—ah—go elsewhere. Ha- 
ha ! As I was saying, we feel that so valiant a 
fighter as yourself should not be lost to Peru— 
a true Conquistador, caramba! of whom our 


146 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

country may well be proud! So we offer you 
not only amnesty and full guaranty of safety, 
but honor—a captaincy, which soon may easily 
become a much higher rank—yes, that of gen¬ 
eral! It is necessary only that you continue to 
fight the Jivero and Huambiza snakes as you 
are doing now. And that surely is but little 
to ask.” 

The deep eyes of the outcast dwelt on him. 
In them grew a warm glow. Then, for the first 
time, the saturnine face relaxed in a smile, 
which became a laugh of rare enjoyment. 

“Por Dios! It is too rich!” he gurgled. 
“Comrades, did you ever hear the like? For¬ 
giveness, freedom, and honor from the land that 
hounded me into the swamps of Brazil, and I 
am asked only to continue my chosen work! It 
is too good! Yes”—his laugh ended ab¬ 
ruptly—“it is too good—to be true! What 
surety have I, senor, that all this is truth? 
Have you official papers to prove it?” 

“None—as yet,” admitted Montez. “But 
they shall come in time. You will understand 
that I have traveled in some danger of being 
killed, and one never knows what may become 
of a paper. Even in such savage jungle, it 
might crawl by crooked ways to the hands of 
Ecuadoreans, and such is not our desire. And 
—I am honest with you, Don Jose—this action 
is not yet sanctioned by our government. It is 
the idea of Coronel Ramirez, my commander. 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 147 

But you may be sure that the recommendations 
of the Coronel, when received by the govern¬ 
ment, will be approved.” 

Jose probed his direct gaze, then nodded. 
For a few r minutes he stared absently at the 
farthest wall, pleasant thoughts flowing through 
his mind. Montez quietly poured himself 
another drink, watching, him all the time. 

“Bien,” said Jose at length. “In what way 
is the government to profit by my becoming 
again a Peruvian?” 

“In this way,” was the ready reply. “We, 
on the Morona, intend to request a large in¬ 
crease of forces. We shall send fast runners 
informing the government that you, v/ith a 
strong force and a strategic center, now fight 
westward; that we must have heavy reinforce¬ 
ments and shall begin a campaign eastward;* 
that we thus shall have the savages between the 
jaws of a trap; that we must crush them—ex¬ 
terminate them—and hold this land by right of 
conquest. Knowing this, the government will 
without doubt impress all available men and 
rush the campaign. If necessary, we shall try 
to increase your forces also. In the end, Peru 
will hold all this region—and hold it forever. 
Let the Ecuadorean pigs squeal. This shall be 
the land of Peru! 

“And the reward of the government to her 
son Don Jose Martinez will be great, beyond a 
doubt. Jose Martinez, whose first blows started 


148 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

the conquest of the east! Jose Martinez, Con¬ 
quistador ! Caramba ! Men have become presi¬ 
dents of the republic for actions less notable! 
Por Dios! Jose Martinez—President of 
Peru!” 

He bounded up, extending his cup, and, with 
a dramatic flourish, drank it off and hurled the 
cup to the floor. Jose half rose, his face aflame, 
then caught himself and sank back, masking the 
sudden exaltation aroused by the toast. Once 
more he held himself quiet—though rigid—in 
his chair. When Montez, fired now by the wine 
and his own eloquence, began again to declaim, 
the king stopped him. 

“Be quiet,” he commanded. “Let me think.” 

Montez sank back, scowling a little. Jose 
stared again at the wall. Presently he began 
musing aloud. 

“So the government of Peru would use my 
forces to win control of el Oriente. And, hav¬ 
ing won, it would reward my services. Don 
Jose would go back as a conqueror to his own 
people. Ah yes. To his relatives and to— 

“Senor Montez, you seem to know much of 
the matter which brought me eastward. There 
was a girl—Dolores. Do you know anything 
of her?” 

“Si. The Senorita Dolores Delavega. I 
know that she was yours, and it was because of 
her that Don Francisco sought to—remove you. 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 149 

She now is one of the holy sisterhood, and is 
seen no more by the world.” 

“Ah! I have often wondered.” Jose sighed. 
“So she is in the convent, and that is the end 
of her.” 

“So it is, Don Jose. But there are many 
other beautiful senoritas who will gladly be gra¬ 
cious to the lion of the east. Yes, fair maidens 
of the highest birth.” 

“Perhaps. Yet I have devoted women here 
with me. And men, too, who are faithful to 
death.” 

“Ah, of course. The Indios. A man must 
amuse himself. And you have done marvelous 
work in making such soldiers. But the Indios 
were made only for the use of white men, and 
when they have served their purpose one need 
think no more of them.” 

An enigmatical smile flitted over the lips of 
Jose and was gone. He went on as if the other 
had not spoken. 

“And so Jose leaves the jungle behind him. 
And into this jungle come many new men who 
never fought to gain it. They gather many tons 
of rubber, they search for gold and roots and 
every valuable thing. And the government 
profits greatly by what they find. And since 
they must have laboring men for all their work, 
they force all the Indios they can find to be their 
beasts. They rob and cheat and abuse the men 
of the forest; they drive them with whip and 


150 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

club; they amuse themselves with the women of 
those men; and those Indios who dare to resent 
such civilized treatment are shot like dogs. 

“So these very men who stand behind me 
now—these White Ones who help w T in the new 
country for the government—are crushed into 
the dirt and forgotten; for the first thing done 
by the government authorities will be to dis¬ 
arm them and leave them helpless in the hands 
of the brave newcomers who never fought a 
Jivero, but who are very valiant at torturing 
Indians who are tame. And all this is the work 
of Jose Martinez, who betrayed the people who 
trusted him.” 

“But no! The Indios—” 

“But yes! I have been years in the jungle, 
and I know what comes to the Indian at the 
hands of the white man. And as his reward for 
this great work, Jose has the freedom of his 
own land to the west and the favors of white 
women—and he bows his neck to the orders of 
the government whenever it wishes to use him 
further. Bien. Now suppose, senor, that I 
refuse to accept this so-wonderful offer; that I 
refuse to help the government to conquer this 
region; that I continue to act as I see fit. What 
then?” 

Montez played his last card. 

“Then we must find our help elsewhere. We 
must try to make use of the Huambizas to 
destroy the Jiveros—and all others who oppose 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 151 

us. They are treacherous, yes; but if they are 
rewarded most generously they may work with 
us until all foes are crushed. Then we must 
turn on the Huambizas—as they will turn on# 
us —and crush them also. So, in the end, we 
win. And you—” He shrugged. 

“Ah! So I must fight either on the side of 
the government or against it. If I am not your 
ally I am your enemy. I shall not be left free 
in either case.” 

“That would be a matter of deep regret to 
us, Don Jose, but-” 

“I see.” 

Jose did not move. Yet he seemed to grow 
taller, wider, more formidable. His face be¬ 
came stone. His voice turned harsh as the 
grating of rock against rock. 

“You have spoken well. You are a bold and 
brave man to make this journey. So far as I 
may, I shall give you protection on your return. 
Men of mine shall go with you to the Pastasa. 
From that point your safety lies in your own 
hands. And since you are in haste to return— 
and since I allow no man except my most trusted 
friends to remain here—you will start back as 
soon as you have eaten. 

“Say to your commander that Jose Martinez 
is king in his own land; that he will fight, not 
as a servant of Peru or of Ecuador or of any 
other government, but as the king of a new 



152 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

nation; that he has chosen his course and will 
not change it if all the world comes against him 
with all its armies; that he will remain king of 
his people, and king of himself, to the end!” 


CHAPTER XIII 
dream’s end 


M ONTEZ was gone. 

His departure had been both unwilling 
and unhonored. Unwilling, because he had 
hoped to prolong his visit for two purposes: 
to argue Jose into reconsideration, and to pick 
up all possible knowledge regarding the strong¬ 
hold of the White Ones. Unhonored, because 
the deceptive exhibition of jungle troops which 
had marked his arrival was not repeated on his 
withdrawal. 

Jose, his decision made and his ultimatum 
spoken, had refused either to hear more talk or 
to permit spying. The visitor had not been 
allowed to leave the council room even to eat; 
a meal had been put before him there, and at 
its end he had been marched straight to the 
cliff path and down and out. Attended only by 
Aillu and the escort which had brought him in, 
he had passed back to the entry canon without 
seeing more than a dozen Indians. Jose knew 
that, although Montez might have looked twice 
at the same faces without suspicion, he would 
153 


154 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

hardly fail to smell a trick if he should meet 
them four times; and he would be using his eyes 
more keenly on his departure, since his mind 
would no longer be filled with his message to 
the king. Wherefore the retreating messenger 
trod a virtually empty path, vainly scanning the 
baffling forest and striving to estimate the 
number of men concealed therein. 

After his going, the man who sent him forth 
was silent and moody. With only a nod to his 
companions and a doorward sign to his handful 
of warriors, he strode out and left them to 
themselves. 

“By George! he’s a man!” exclaimed 
Knowlton. 

“We’ve known that for some time,” observed 
McKay. 

“Sure. But think of turning down the one 
thing he’s been longing for, just for the sake of 
making good with this bunch of Indians. Now 
he’s burned all his bridges, condemned himself 
for life. ‘Among Indians I must live, and in 
the jungle I must die!’ ” 

“Yeah. But listen here. If he did quit his 
own gang now he’d be a deserter,” Tim pointed 
out. “He’d be yeller. And it ain’t in him to 
be yeller—either now or to-morrer or the next 
day. One thing about Hozy, he’s always fig- 
gerin’ on to-morrer and the day after. Most 
guys in his place would have been satisfied to 
look at to-morrer—meanin’ the day when he 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 155 

could go back west and be a swell again. But 
he had to look way past that and see what 
would happen the day after to-morrer, and that 
spoilt to-morrer. Spoilt this here, now, Monty’s 
game, too. Say, Cap, d’ye s’pose that P’roo 
bunch ’ll really hook up now with them Warm 
Beezers?” 

“The Huambizas? No chance. That was a 
bluff,” answered McKay. “The Huambizas 
would just collect their heads—” 

“Great Scott! Listen, Rod!” This from 
Knowlton, who had started as if struck by an 
astounding thought. “You know the Huambizas 
have been on the rampage lately. We’ve been 
blaming it on Dave. Maybe it goes farther 
back, and this scheming Colonel Ramirez is 
behind it. His object is to get everybody in this 
region to kill off somebody else. Playing both 
ends against the middle. Double-crossing all 
hands.” 

The tall Scot and the stocky Irishman stared 
and scowled. McKay grudgingly nodded. 

“Might be. When it comes to international 
land-grabbing there’s no trick too dirty to use,” 
he conceded. “But Dave—where does he come 
in? He’s certainly not a tool of Peru.” 

“No. That’s impossible. All the same— 
Confound it! we’ve got to yank Dave out of 
there somehow!” Knowlton bounced up and 
began prowling to and fro. 

“Yeah. That’s right. And our best bet is 


156 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

ol* Hozy here. He’ll be startin’ somethin’ right 
away, I bet ye, and our game is to trail along. 
It’s the only chance we got.” 

McKay nodded again. Knowlton said noth¬ 
ing. Tim arose and ambled outward; cast an 
eye about, seeking Jose; saw nothing of him, 
and drifted toward the house where dwelt the 
women and children. As he approached it he 
stopped, listening; then turned and trotted back. 

“Hey! Come and listen,” he stage-whis¬ 
pered. 

They followed. Nearing the family house, 
they slowxd. Soft and low, from somewhere 
within that home floated the strains of a violin. 

In mournful minors, those notes reached into 
the hearts of the wanderers who had just seen 
their old-time comrade stalk silently from the 
conference in which he had renounced all hope 
of seeing again the land of his birth. Slowly 
they went to the deserted piazza, and there they 
leaned in the shade, feeling like eavesdroppers 
listening to a confession. The player was not 
repeating any known air; he was putting into 
strange, haunting music what he would never 
put into words—a pathos which no words could 
convey. And the men outside, as the bow con¬ 
tinued to drift over the plaintive strings, saw 
and heard and felt the same vision as the man 
within. 

A land of darkness and of silences, wherein 
crawled savage rivers and crept nameless 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 157 

creatures of the gloom. The drip and drizzle 
of rain; the sough of lonely winds; the brief 
cries of stricken bird or beast or man. Far on 
the horizon, a wall of mountains touched with 
golden sun. Down in the mist and murk of the 
forest, a man who struggled toward the moun¬ 
tains—and was clutched and held by shadowy 
tentacles reaching for him amid the gloom. 
One by one those merciless coils fastened upon 
him until he was held powerless. The sunlit 
hills faded into dimness; the light died out; the 
forest and the man were swallowed in a vast 
black void. Then the music itself died into 
silence. 

But presently it stole again into the air. The 
mists thinned out. The strangling, clutching 
monster enwrapping the man loosed its hold. 
He passed onward—no longer striving toward 
the vanished mountains, but marching with in¬ 
exorable tread into a land peopled by demons. 
Behind him now glided other men; first a few, 
then more and more, then an army—strong, 
lithe, deep-eyed n firm-jawed men who, like their 
leader, turned aside for nothing. Came the 
clash and shock of battle. The demons, swarm¬ 
ing with hideous grimaces into the melee, fell 
back and went down. And then the great forest 
was flooded with light—the same sunlight which 
had glowed on the unattainable heights. And 
over all swelled a pa^an of triumph, through 
which sounded the rhythmic beat of drums, the 


i 5 8 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

roar of exulting warriors, the laughter of 
women and the shouts of happy children—the 
throbbing, thrilling battle song of a victorious 
nation. 

Again the violin was silent. It spoke no 
more. Presently footsteps sounded softly with¬ 
in, and through the doorway came a pair of 
young women carrying tiny mites of humanity 
which stared round eyed at the quiet men lean¬ 
ing against the posts. The women, too, looked 
with some surprise at the visitors, but not with 
so much interest as they received in return. 
One of them was a young wife of Jose, with her 
latest-born; the other was Nune, in whose arms 
the babe lay as restfully as if in the embrace of 
his own mother. Once more, in some indefin¬ 
able way, the strange girl from the land of the 
head-hunters seemed to have changed. With 
the naked infant resting against her bosom, she 
who had been priestess and nymph and charmer 
now was a Madonna. 

“Jose?” questioned Knowlton, gesturing 
toward the interior and thus explaining their 
presence. 

“He will come,” briefly replied the young 
wife. Making no effort to summon the master, 
she sank into a hammock. Nune remained 
standing. With evident reluctance, she surren¬ 
dered her own burden to the mother, who non¬ 
chalantly took it with a free arm. Straightening, 
the girl turned to Tim, speaking with the direct- 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 159 

ness of an Indian and a familiarity which 
showed that she regarded him as her best 
acquaintance there. 

“Teem, the man is gone? Who was he?” 

“A man from the Morona.” 

“Morona! He had news of my people?” 

“No.” 

“Teem, you do not speak truth! A man of 
the Morona must know of my people. Unless 
he was of Macas. Was he a padre?” 

“No. A bad man from far down by the 
Amazon.” 

“A bad man! And he was allowed to go? 
He was not killed?” 

“No. Ask Hozy. Here he is.” Relapsing 
into his usual speech, he added: “Jest in time, 
Hozy. I’m gittin’ pumped, and I dunno how 
much ye want her to know. Give her the dope 
yerself.” 

Jose, emerging from the inner shadow, was 
himself again. His crown and his feathered 
garments were gone, and he was once more 
garbed in his slouchy bark clothes. Moreover, 
his head was high and his face alight with good 
humor. With only a glance at Nune, he stepped 
to the hammock, deftly picked one of the royal 
mites from the mother’s breast, and lifted it 
high in the air. 

“Make haste, little prince, and grow!” he 
exhorted. “The time is short, for already men 
seek to steal away your father and make of him 


160 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


a monkey. Soon he will grow old, and then you 
and your brothers must protect him. Hurry, 
little rascal, and grow big!” 

With terrifying speed he swung the babe 
down again, stopping it as lightly as a feather 
above its mother’s bosom, then laying it gently 
in her arms. Though the little fellow’s eyes 
had opened wide, he made no whimper. Con¬ 
tentedly he cuddled beside his twin. Jose 
stretched his arms wide and laughed. 

“Behold, the devil came to King Jose,” he 
said, “and put into his hands the desire of his 
heart. And behold, when the king had that 
thing before his nose, it began to smell bad. 
And he handed it back to the devil, and pushed 
the devil out of his house, and played a tune on 
his fiddle, and so it ended.” 

“No regrets?” quizzed McKay. 

“No regrets, comrade. Indeed, I am most 
heartily glad. I had a dream which tormented 
me much, and now it is gone, and it will come 
back no more. Why? Because it was born of 
bitterness, and the bitterness was born from the 
fact that I could not go back. Now I have had 
the power to go back if I willed; yes, I have had 
the satisfaction of being begged to go back by 
the very government that cast me out; and of 
my own will I refused. And the torment has 
ended, for the bitterness has died. 

“I know now that I should not be happy in 
the land beyond the mountains. This jungle, 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 161 


where I have suffered much and which I have 
bitterly cursed many a time, would haunt me to 
my grave. It would call to me, and it would 
curse me as I have cursed it, because I betrayed 
it for a dream. It is a fierce, cruel old mistress, 
but it has been more kind to me than the land 
of my youth. So I shall be faithful to it, and 

to the men and women and children it has given 

___ 

me. 

Again he looked affectionately at the little 
family group. Then he turned to Nune. 
Thoughtfully he studied her. 

“Nune, is it still your desire to leave this 
place ?” he asked. “Do you wish to go forth 
alone and travel the many long leagues through 
the forest, to become again a wandering servant 
of Piatzo among the Huambizas?” 

The girl was silent. Her dark eyes dwelt on 
the verdant hills forming the wall of the strong* 
hold, visualizing the weary leagues of menacing 
jungle stretching away beyond; the fearful strug¬ 
gle of plodding on and on and on, soon exhaust¬ 
ing the little food she could carry and then being 
forced to subsist like an animal on what small 
life she could kill; the black nights alone and 
shelterless, the unbridged streams, the prowling 
Jivero and jaguar, the myriad hardships and 
dangers of the long traverse. Unconsciously 
her fingers stole within her dress to the crude 
cross given her by the mad priest. When at 
length she spoke, it was with an effort. 


162 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


“Nune must return to her people.” 

“Must?” repeated Jose. “Must? In her 
heart Nune does not wish to go.” 

She sighed. Her gaze went to Tim. Then 
she looked down at the ground. 

“Do these three remain here?” she asked in 
a small voice. 

“For a time only. Then they go to their own 
land, which is far away.” 

Her head lifted again. Once more she 
looked at the three; and now her gaze was im¬ 
personal and cool. Once more she said—and 
said with firm decision—“Nune returns to her 
people.” 

“Bien. So it shall be. But Nune does not go 
alone. Soon we go to Rana. Nune goes with 
us.” 

A quick light filled her face, succeeded by a 
shadow of distrust. But her reply was simple 
and serene. 

“It is well.” 

Without another look at any of the four, she 
passed through the doorway and was gone. 

“And that's the way it goes,” sighed Tim, 
half humorously. “Every time I git me a girl 
she leaves me flat for somebody else. But 
every time I look at a poor married guy wor- 
ryin’ about his family—yeah, even you, Hozy— 
I think mebbe I’m a lucky boob at that. Lucky 
in love, that’s me: I don’t never git married 
and spoil the fun o’ livin’. Did I hear ye say 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 163 

somethin’ about movin’ west, kink? When do 
we pull out?” 

“Very soon. As soon as I can make ready. 
And then we move fast—and strike hard.” 

His tone was grim. Tim’s face grew sober 
and he eyed Jose curiously. The others, too, 
became grave, probing the expression on the 
ominous countenance of the fighting king. Now 
that his torturing dream of return to his native 
land was ended, would he be more ruthless than 
ever in pursuing his later dream of conquest? 
Would he, if he reached David Rand, slay him 
as remorselessly as any .other Huambiza? If 
he did, more than one hope centering on that 
wild man would be slain also; and so wouldone 
long-existent fact—their friendship for Jose 
Martinez. 

While they studied him, he returned an in¬ 
flexible, unreadable gaze which seemed to search 
their own minds. Then he turned from them 
and re-entered the house. They stood a mo¬ 
ment longer, then drifted back toward their own 
quarters, saying not a word. 


CHAPTER XIV 


FORWARD 

O VER the rim of the mountain wall leered 
the ghostly visage of War. Invisible, in¬ 
tangible, yet real as the rocky steeps themselves, 
it hung above the outer jungle and watched the 
movements of the people within the bowl. And 
day after day there arose from the homes of the 
White Ones, like a tribute, a steady haze of 
smoke. 

That grinning phantom, always lurking near, 
had lifted its head at the bidding of the Span¬ 
iard who ruled the region. The smokes, too, 
had begun to rise at the word of the hawk¬ 
faced king. It had been a very simple matter, 
devoid of any such ceremony or mysticism as 
might, in more ancient times, have attended the 
conjuring of an all-powerful shade from the 
realm of spirits. The king had merely sum¬ 
moned to his eyrie his chiefs and their subchiefs 
and spoken briefly to the conclave, and the 
thing was done. 

The smokes were those of undying cook-fires 
preparing the campaign food for an army. The 
army itself was, in small detachments, ranging 
the forest for miles in all directions, silently war- 

164 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 165 

ring with blowgun and arrow on the little people 
of the upper world—monkeys. Other animals, 
and birds, too, were slain and brought home by 
the killers, but such meat was devoted only to 
the present needs of the families. Of the rich 
red monkey flesh not an ounce was eaten. All 
of it went into the clay stewpots bubbling over 
the flames. 

The women of the White Ones were working 
now. For the nonce, the children got scant 
attention. In fact, the older children, too, were 
all at work. While their mothers presided at 
the pots, the boys became butchers, skinning and 
cutting up the animals dumped on the floors by 
their male elders; and the girls, sitting beside 
piles of boiled yuca root, chewed and chewed 
and chewed. 

u To make an army, one must have three 
things—men and weapons and food,” Jose com¬ 
mented. “Men without weapons have little 
power, and men without food have no power at 
all. If you will come down below, friends, I 
think I can show you something new in the way 
of food for fighting men.” 

“You’ll have to go some,” laughed Knowlton. 
“When we were in France we stowed away some 
weird stuff.” 

On entering a smoky Sumatara house and 
observing a pile of freshly cut meat, he added: 
“Nothing new about this, Jose. We’ve smoked 
monkey meat many a time.” 


166 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

“Ah, si. But look more closely, amigo. This 
is not being smoked.” 

“Oh, I see! Stewing it. But it won’t keep.” 

“No?” 

From a little pile of what seemed short 
lengths of firewood Jose picked one at random. 
As he held it up the others saw that it was a 
section of bamboo, and that the ends were 
capped. 

“There is your meat,” he said. “See. Yon¬ 
der more meat stews. When all strength is 
boiled from the meat, the bones and the shreds 
are thrown out and the liquor is boiled down—” 

“Hm! Meat extract!” 

“That is it. A pure paste, with pepper and 
other spices, sealed in these tubes. The caps 
are of strong leaves and bark strips which dry 
hard and tight. Much food with little weight. 
This is my own idea, which I have taught my 
people. And here,” nodding toward a chewing 
girl, “is an idea for which I am not responsible 
and which may not be so pleasant to you.” 

As he spoke, the girl took from her mouth 
the yuca root which she had been masticating, 
placed it carefully in a clay dish holding a small 
mound which somewhat resembled mashed po¬ 
tato, tossed another chunk of yuca into her 
mouth, and resumed her jaw-work. The Ameri¬ 
cans watched her, suspicion and repulsion grow¬ 
ing on their faces. 

“Masata!” guessed McKay. “I’ve heard of 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 167 

the stuff, but never saw it made. Your people 
eat masata?” 

“Truly,” answered the Spaniard, with a grin 
of enjoyment at the evident distaste of the 
others. “Through all this country masata is 
the favorite food—the yuca root mixed with the 
saliva of the ladies. The Jiveros all use it; 
they call it ‘giamancha.’ One puts it in water 
and drinks it. It is very nourishing; one mouth¬ 
ful of yuca has the strength of four mouthfuls 
of potato. And there is no other way of 
preserving the root than by this chewing.” 

“Ugh! Me, I’d go hungry a long time 
before touchin’ that stuff,” asserted Tim. 

“Quite likely. It is all a matter of prejudice. 
My men would not think of starting on a long 
trail without it. It will be sealed as carefully 
as the meat, and used as needed. With only 
these two kinds of food we could march many 
a long league. And with the things we may 
pick from the forest, we shall not suffer.” 

“Especially tapirs,” said Knowlton. “Seems 
to be plenty of those big beasts hereabouts.” 

“That is one thing for which we can thank 
our head-hunting friends,” smiled Jose. “It is 
against their religion to kill the tapir.” 

The other eyed him quizzically. 

“Religion?” scoffed McKay. “Since when 
have those murderers had religion?” 

“It is true,” Jose affirmed. “They believe in 
a god of rivers and rain, who orders the quick 


168 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


rise and fall of the streams and the coming of 
showers at good or bad times for their crops. 
And they believe that his favorite creatures are 
the tapir, which lives much in the rivers; the 
yacumama—the great water boa; and the frog. 
He is likely to take the shape of any one of 
these things himself, if he is in the mood. So 
the Jiveros are afraid to touch the tapir, the 
snake, or the frog, because the god might be 
angered, and then he would cause a great flood 
which would destroy all the people.” 

“Hm! And do your people believe this?” 

“But no. They are a little afraid of the 
great devil-snake—and who is not?—but they 
kill and eat the tapir as gladly as they kill the 
shrinkers of heads. They eat the frog also. 
The only superstition my White Ones have is 
that I myself am at least half a god and can 
never be overcome. And you may be sure that 
I do not dispute them.” 

“Faith, they could believe lots o' worse 
things,” remarked Tim. “I ain’t never seen ye 
licked yet.” 

“When you do see it you will see me dead,” 
was the simple answer. “You know what de¬ 
feat means in this land. Until now I have 
always won.” A slight shadow passed over his 
face. He seemed about to say more, but no 
words came. Abruptly he passed doorward. 
McKay eyed him cornerwise. 

“Until now?” he suggested. 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 169 

Outside, Jose paused, sweeping a look around 
his guarded hills. His lips opened; closed; 
opened again. 

“Until now,” he echoed. “Somehow, Rod¬ 
rigo, I feel uneasy now. I do not know why. 
Yet it is a feeling which I have seldom known 
to fail—the feeling which more than once has 
saved me when I was alone in the forest—that 
some danger was near. It has been upon me 
ever since I gave my captains the command to 
prepare to march, and it grows stronger hour 
by hour. Something gnaws at me, telling me 
not to go forth." Again he looked along the 
rim of jungled rock, his expression vaguely 
troubled. “Never before have I felt so when 
about to start away," he concluded. “Always I 
have been sure of victory.” 

Knowlton cast his gaze around the wall, then 
laughed. 

“You’re too much married, old chap,” he ral¬ 
lied. “I’ve seen lots of fellows like you. When 
they were single they’d grab the devil by the tail 
and tie a knot in it, but after they got wives 
they began to grow that worried look that’s on 
your handsome face right now. Forget it!” 

He slapped the brooding king on the shoul¬ 
der. At the tingling impact Jose straightened 
and his somber expression dissolved. 

“Perhaps you have it right, Teniente,” he 
grinned. “I am a man of many burdens. Hah! 
But, por Dios! I still can tie a knot in the tail 


170 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

of the deyil! Do not think that Jose Martinez 
is so woman-ridden as to skulk from a fight, 
even if it be his last. Vamos!” 

And on the way back to the rock he swag¬ 
gered along with the buccaneering swing which 
had been his in the days of lone bush-ranging, 
a price on his head and a dare in his eyes to any 
man to come and get it. 

At the main house, which had been their 
living quarters ever since their arrival, they 
found a dozen newly arrived Sumataras, each 
squatting beside a tight-woven pack basket. On 
the approach of the whites, the men arose. One 
who seemed to be their leader spoke briefly to 
Jose, ending by throwing back the lid of his 
basket. Within it showed sealed tins and a 
rubber-wrapped bundle. At a word from Jose 
the twelve lifted the rattan containers, carried 
them into the inner room habitually used as 
dormitory by the North Americans, and dumped 
them. The adventurers, who had followed, 
gazed at their own equipment, which had been 
cached weeks ago on the bank of the Bobonaza. 

“How come?” puzzled Knowlton. “We 
didn’t send for this stuff. How’d they find it?” 

“I sent them for it,” nonchalantly explained 
Jose. “You mentioned that you had left it on 
a hill one day’s journey below Canelos. So I 
told a sargento of my army to go and find it. 
It was easy for him.” 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 171 

“Hm! And we’d have defied all the Indians 
in the world to find that cache.” 

“You do not know my men. Wait until you 
see them smell out a hidden town of the head¬ 
hunters.” 

To the spokesman of the dozen he mono¬ 
toned a few words, receiving a single syllable 
in reply. At another short sentence from him 
the strong mouths widened in swift smiles. 
Then the carriers stalked out. 

“They have seen no sign of enemies. I have 
told them that the enemy shall soon see signs 
of us. Nov/ I go to see to various matters. 
Let your load for this march be of cartridges 
only. All else shall be provided.” 

And he was gone to look after some new 
detail of preparation. 

Left alone, the seekers of David Rand fell 
to scanning their cans and tightly closed duffle 
bags, plainly marked with waterproof paint or 
varnished tags. Old campaigners all, they had 
burdened themselves only with necessities; yet 
the necessities constituted a sizable pile. From 
it they selected as much ammunition as could 
.well be carried; spare gun-cleaning kits, and 
new footgear—soft, flexible, but tough boots of 
the high moccasin type. With the addition 
from their every-day duffle of a light blanket, 
an extra shirt, a medical packet, and the inevi¬ 
table tooth brush, matches, and tobacco, each 
was fully equipped except for food and bed. 


172 THE KING OF NO MAN'S LAND 

For these they relied on the White Ones, who 
possessed trail hammocks much lighter than 
their own stout hanging nets. 

When Jose again looked into the room he 
found the confusion of spilled equipment trans¬ 
formed into a compact pile in a corner; three 
small heaps beside the wall; three army pack 
carriers, with web belts bulging with cartridges, 
hanging from pegs; and three rifles, machetes, 
and holstered pistols under the harnesses. The 
men who owned these things were ready to go. 
Splashes and masculine mirth from the bathing 
pool at the rear told w r here they now were. 

It was two days later, however, before Jose 
and his own men were ready to depart. Far 
into the night burned the fires, reducing the 
monkey meat to its most portable form; and 
before the early-rising Americans strolled forth 
to look at the new day the smoke mist was 
already stealing abroad again. Meanwhile 
every available man made his travel prepara¬ 
tions or worked at the defenses of the placer 
for Jose was leaving behind him only a skeleton 
garrison, and from three of the five entrances 
and their trails he took every watchman. Each 
of these deserted passages was blocked, how¬ 
ever, as effectively as if guarded by the usual 
custodians; into the canons were hurled thorn 
trees, forming masses whose wicked spikes 
would repel all creatures except those endowed 
with wings. For months to come—until the 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 173 

slowly drying trees could be cleared away by 
fire—those passages would be useless to the 
White Ones as well as to any invaders. But 
Jose was determined to leave no approach 
unguarded during his absence. 

The other two trails and portals, with their 
guardians, were left unchanged. So was the 
guard on the central rock. And to the women 
and the boys was left a supply of aboriginal 
arms, in the use of which they were well versed. 

Then, on the third morning, the army moved. 
Barefoot, barearmed, with machete pendent at 
his belt, bullet pouch slung under one arm, and 
rifle in his fist, Jose strode across the upper 
ground and, without a parting word or look for 
his family, swung down the cliff path. Behind 
him, packs rolled snugly at their backs and guns 
across their shoulders, marched McKay and 
Knowlton and Tim. And at Tim’s heels, her 
level eyes questing the distances, came Nune; 
once more garbed in her simple robe, which she 
would doff as soon as she had passed through 
the gateway, to become again a girl of the 
forest. 

Out along the woods path they filed, finding 
every byway crammed with armed men bearing 
basket packs. These, headed by their subordi¬ 
nate officers, fell in behind. Rod by rod the line 
lengthened as each side alley debouched its de¬ 
tachment. When it had passed, the bypaths 
held only women and children who had come to 


174 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

watch the going of the expedition. No fare¬ 
wells were spoken; no man looked back; no call 
or cry came from wife or daughter. Stoically 
each woman stood and looked her last on the 
mate who might never return; then withdrew to 
her home, to wait through long weeks. 

At the top of the stiff climb into the canon of 
exit, Tim glanced back and down. As far as he 
could see along the path, men were coming in a 
steady file which seemed endless. Meanwhile 
McKay,, always looking forward, saw that now 
Jose was preceded by Indians who evidently had 
waited in the ravine. These, he surmised, 
formed the vanguard, under either Aillu or 
Curac; and scouts probably were half a mile or 
more in advance. 

Into the rocky cleft they swung, and on 
through it, and down the winding track beyond. 
The following line, enviously watched from 
above by the guards doomed to remain at home, 
poured after them in a living stream. At length 
the walls ceased to whisper with the slither of 
marching feet. Empty and silent yawned the 
rift, devoid of life except for the human hawks 
stationed at its brink. The army had vanished 
into the vast green sea of trees beyond. 

The guards grunted sourly and turned to 
their duties. Their keen eyes ranged back and 
forth, sweeping the accustomed vista within 
and without their wall. They missed nothing; 
nothing, that is, which lay within mortal ken. 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 175 

Yet there was one thing, grim and sinister, 
which even their trained sight did not perceive. 
That was the lurking phantom which still reared 
its head invisible against the sky; which grinned 
and gibbered soundlessly as it watched the long 
line go crawling away through the jungle—and 
which then leered down more maliciously than 
ever at the women and children left behind. 


CHAPTER XV 


THE KING JESTS 

F OR two days the expedition of the White 
Ones crawled on with the smooth speed 
of a great serpent. It twisted and wound, slid¬ 
ing downward, ever downward, along dim trails 
which writhed in curves and bends through the 
shadowy labyrinth. It started at the first light 
which would reveal the course to the expert 
eyes of the scouts; it halted to eat swiftly and 
sparingly about midday; it stopped again only 
when night approached. Then it drew its steel 
and attacked the forest, severing poles, shearing 
great plantain leaves, clipping and splitting bush 
ropes, and transforming them into shelters 
beneath which it might sleep undisturbed by 
rain. 

In the deepening darkness bloomed many 
small fires, and with the pungent smoke blended 
the odor of broiling meat; for, though there 
was little time for hunting, more or less game 
was knocked over each day by the scouts up 
ahead, who allowed no movement alow or aloft 
to escape their quick eyes and who planted an 
arrow in any luckless turkey or animal within 
176 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 177 

easy range. They did not attempt to carry this, 
game after killing it; they laid it beside the trail 
and passed on, leaving it to be picked up and 
transported by men behind. At night they 
coolly demanded—and received—from those 
men the choicest meats they had furnished that 
day. 

Through the night all slept peacefully, with 
fires smoldering to thin the mosquitoes and to 
taunt any prowling tigres which might snarl 
hungrily in the surrounding bush. Serenely con¬ 
scious of the facts that they still were in their 
own land and were too strong to be assailed by 
man or beast, they gave scant heed to the night 
noises. Least concerned of all was Nune; and 
well she might be. After facing the prospect 
of making her way alone through the wilderness, 
she now found herself sleeping in the royal hut 
and protected from all danger by four very 
capable white men, while all about her rested 
scores of other formidable fighters. 

“It is not as you feared it would be, is it, 
girl?” Jose twitted at the first night’s camp. 
“Instead of walking alone, you have more men 
than any woman of this land ever had before. 
Every Huambiza woman will envy you when 
you tell the tale.” 

“Nune did not fear,” she denied. “Piatzo 
cares for his servant. Yet you are good men, 
and it is pleasant to walk with you.” 

“We are glad.” The Spaniard made a mock 


178 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

bow. “Since we are such good men, your Piatzo 
should command you to tell us of the quickest 
way to reach Rana.” 

A single headshake betokened her rejection 
of this argument. 

“You go to make war on my people,” she 
asserted. “If it be the will of Piatzo that you 
succeed, he will lead you. He does not tell me 
to speak.” 

“Your Piatzo is a fraud, and you are an¬ 
other,” Jose rejoined, good-humoredly. “We 
shall find what we seek without the aid of any 
Piatzo. We shall follow the lead of Chaqui- 
cuna.” 

A surprised look flitted over her face, but 
she said no more. 

“Who’s he? One o’ the scouts?” wondered 
Tim. 

“Chaquicuna? No. He is the other god of 
the Jiveros—the god of the forest, as Yacu- 
mama is the god of the waters. One of his 
feet is that of a man, the other that of a tigre. 
Quite likely we shall see his tracks near this 
camp in the morning. If we do I shall show 
them to her—and you shall see how strong is 
her faith in Piatzo.” 

Knowlton and McKay, sprawling in their new 
hammocks, squinted at him through their ciga¬ 
rette smoke. 

“One man foot and one tigre foot?” puzzled 
Knowlton. “You’re joking.” 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 179 

“No. It is true. Have you never seen such 
tracks?” 

“M-m-m! Seems as if I have. Let’s see. 
Oh, sure. I get it. A man walks along, and 
a jaguar or a puma follows his track in the mud. 
Then the next man to come along sees man 
tracks and cat tracks together. And those fools 
believe it’s done by a god?” 

“Truly. Their wizards tell them so, and 
they believe it. And this girl, for all her prat¬ 
ing about Piatzo, learned of the Jivero gods 
when she was small and still believes in them. 
You shall see.” 

“Just how do you expect to find Dave with¬ 
out her help?” queried McKay. 

“That, also, you shall see,” was the smiling 
answer. And Jose curled up and went to sleep. 

If he heard the coughs of near-by jaguars in 
the night he gave no sign of it. But immedi¬ 
ately on awaking in the morning he slipped out 
of the hut and into the bush as if he knew where 
to go. Soon he was back, a twinkle in his eyes. 

“Chaquicuna favors our march,” he said, sol¬ 
emnly, in Spanish. “He was with us in the dark 
hours, and I have just seen his tracks in the for¬ 
est. He goes before us. Nune, you do not be¬ 
lieve that the god of the forest leads us against 
the Huambizas ? Then come and see with your 
own eyes.” 

Without awaiting reply, he led the way. She 
followed. The Americans, after a moment of 


180 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


indecision, remained where they were. While 
Jose was out they had freshened a fire and boiled 
coffee, and now the aroma of the hot liquid 
was more tempting than the inspection of marks 
in the mud. Squatting about the little blaze, 
they sipped and smoked and banished the dank 
night chill from their bones. 

Presently the pair returned, the girl lithe and 
fair, the man swarthy and satirical; such a con¬ 
trast that Tim, watching them approach, mut¬ 
tered: “Cripes! They look like an angel and 
the divil!” 

The sober face of the angel and the sly wink 
of the devil showed that she had indeed looked 
on a set of tracks which had aroused her early 
superstitions. She seemed somewhat disturbed, 
and her gaze swept about the encompassing 
woods as if she almost expected to see a weird 
figure moving somewhere in the shadows. 
Reaching the hut, she went about the prepara¬ 
tion of the frugal breakfast in an absent fashion. 
Jose squatted by the fire and accepted a cupful 
of coffee. 

“The god left a fine track,” he chuckled. 
“One of my men probably wandered a little 
after making camp, and a cat sniffed along his 
trail in the night. I am glad we have the girl 
with us; there are few jokes on a war trail, and 
I can tease her all the way to her own land. But 
perhaps that will arouse the anger of Senor 
Tim. Hah?” 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 181 

‘‘She ain’t my girl no more,” grumbled Tim. 
“And kiddin’ don’t hurt her none. Leastways, 
mine didn’t. I thought I was gittin’ in good, and 
then she gimme the razz, same as they all do. 
It’s a tough world for a soft-hearted liT feller 
like me. But what’s yer big idea in knockin’ her 
religion? That don’t git us nothin’.” 

“I know it. I only wanted to prove to myself 
that her faith in Piatzo was not so strong as to 
overcome her Huambiza beliefs. She is Huam- 
biza at heart, and when we enter Huambiza 
country she must be carefully watched. It is not 
my plan to let her escape and give warning that 
we come.” 

With that he began eating. The others, 
though saying nothing, looked at the girl with 
more sympathy than he had shown. In a way, 
her life was pathetic. Captured in infancy and 
grown to womanhood among savages, still she 
possessed the superior mind of her white ances¬ 
try. And that mind, hemmed in by the soul¬ 
crushing jungle, was eternally groping for higher 
things. The crazed priest who saved her had 
been a nobler being than the greatest man of her 
tribe—the wizard whom she had spurned even 
in horrid extremity—and to his twisted but 
forceful intellect she had instinctively attached 
herself. In the queer, hopeless role of priestess 
which he had laid upon her, she had traveled 
the haunts of savagery until revulsion drove her 
to Macas—there to be jeered at by the rabble 


182 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

and returned to the jungle by the clergy. And 
then to the masterful mentality of the pseudo- 
Indian Rana she had “turned her heart”; and 
her heart still was with Rana, despite any brief 
coquetry with Tim. Reaching, blindly reaching 
toward the light, like a flower striving to rear 
itself above snake-breeding muck—such was the 
pitiful urge of the soul of Nune. 

In her present struggle between crude super¬ 
stition and higher teachings these hardened ad¬ 
venturers from the north saw no joke. For 
once, the cynical humor of the Spaniard jarred. 

“If it’s all the same to you, Jose,” Knowlton 
said, coolly, “I wouldn’t josh her any more 
about her gods.” 

“What! Ha-ha-ha ! Por Dios! is our gold¬ 
haired teniente now the victim of the soft brown 
eyes?” 

The blond man flushed, his mouth tightened, 
and a glint came under his silky lashes. 

“No. But she’s a good kid. And her beliefs 
are none of our business. Get me?” 

Jose peered at him. For an instant a hot 
spark glowed under his own brows. Then it 
vanished, and he chuckled in a good-humored 
way. 

“As you will, comrade. I have seen men 
fight to the death because they did not agree 
about some idiotic quibble of religion, and I hope 
we are not such fools.” 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 183 

“I don’t care about her religion. But there’s 
no sense in plaguing her.” 

“True enough,” Jose agreed, equably. 
“There is none. So let us say no more about 
it.” 

And no more was said. 

Soon they were again on the march, swing¬ 
ing along at the steady, unhurried gait which ate 
up distance without apparent fatigue to the In¬ 
dians or to Jose, but which the Americans found 
a bit stiff to maintain. At the end of that day’s 
traverse Tim gazed ruefully at a heel blister 
formed by his new footgear, and all three wel¬ 
comed the news that the next day they should 
ride. They had nearly reached a certain creek 
at which, Jose informed them, he had ordered 
a concentration of canoes. 

“For the next few days,” he added, “we shall 
travel in very close quarters, for every canoe 
must carry all the men it can. So, Senores Tim 
and Knowlton, decide between you which shall 
be the one to sit close to our little friend here.” 

He squinted impishly at Nune, then at the 
pair he had addressed. Knowlton laughed with 
his usual good nature. 

“Put her next to Rod,” he advised. “He’s 
absolutely womanproof. Didn’t mean to pick 
a fuss this morning, Jose. I flare up too quickly 
sometimes.” 

“No fuss was picked, amigo. I understand 
you quite well, and why you spoke. Yet is it 


184 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

not queer how a woman can cause words be¬ 
tween men without even knowing she does so? 
I shall be truly glad when she is once more free 
in her own land.” 

“Ye’re dead right,” agreed Tim. “This liT 
lady she’s all to the mustard and game as they 
make ’em, and I like her fine, even if she did 
slip me the frosty mitt. And yet, somehow, I 
got a hunch we’re goin’ to git into a peck o’ 
trouble about her. I dunno why; I jest feel 
that way. I wisht she was back home, like Hozy 
says, and we didn’t have no woman to think 
about. This here Warm Beezer parade we’re 
takin’ oughter be a stag party.” 

Three slight nods concurred. 

“But o’ course we got to treat her right and 
see her home safe, even if we do knock her folks 
for a gool right afterwards. Gee! and then 
what’s goin’ to happen to her? We go in there 
and blow her whole outfit off the map and yank 
Dave out and pack him off, and leave her all 
out o’ luck. Dang it, we can’t fix things right 
for her, no matter what we do.” 

“She must do as all other women of this land 
do—live whatever life and die whatever death 
her gods provide for her,” Jose declared, with 
a careless shrug. “Perhaps to become the mate 
of some head-hunter and forget Senor Dave, 
perhaps to drink the barbasco—quien sabe?” 

“Barbasco? What’s that?” asked Knowlton. 

“It is the vine which the Jiveros use for fish- 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 185 

ing. They crush it and throw it into slow water, 
and the milky juice from it kills the fish. The 
women captured in raids by the Jiveros some¬ 
times use it to kill themselves.” 

A sudden silence fell. The Americans stared 
thoughtfully at their cigarettes. To each came 
the thought that the deadly barbasco probably 
had furnished the one way out for the frantic 
mother of Nune, a victim and slave of the bar¬ 
barians. Whether or not that was true, it was 
more than likely that Nune herself, when bereft 
of the man of her choice and abandoned forever 
to a hopeless existence in the shadows, would 
resort to the vine. To her despairing mind this 
impulse would, no doubt, seem the bidding of 
Piatzo. She who had braved the malignity of 
the wizard of Kwana would not shrink from 
the brief agony which would open the gates to 
oblivion. 

One by one they snapped their cigarette butts 
outside, drew their blankets across their chests, 
and lay motionless. Around them sounded only 
the subdued hiss of smoldering fires and the 
brief grunts of resting Indians. Farther out 
rose and fell the low, mournful notes of pauji 
turkeys murmuring in the thin light filtering 
down from a small moon; the soft call of a 
tutacuchillo night monkey traveling the high 
branches; the weird plaint of a lonely sloth; the 
whistle of a tapir summoning his mate. And in 
her hammock, at the end of the row of five slung 


186 [THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

within the hut, the girl of whom these men were 
thinking lay without a thought for any of them. 
That tapir call was in her ears, and a deeper 
call in her heart; and her half-closed eyes looked 
steadfastly toward the west, as if through the 
limitless leagues of jungle she saw something 
dearer to her than the symbolic cross nestling 
in her bosom. 

And out of the west, unknown to her or to 
those around her, her fate was advancing with 
swift, inexorable strides. 




CHAPTER XVI 


THE SEED OF DISTRUST 

D OWN a narrow but deep creek, which 
crawled black and slow through the mud 
of the lowland jungle, slid a long line of dugout 
canoes. The human serpent which recently had 
been slithering along the trails now had become 
a great water snake. 

As the commander-in-chief had foretold, every 
boat was crammed with men, riding so low that 
the gunwales were almost awash. At the head 
of the line glided the scar-faced Curac, acknowl¬ 
edged captain of operations on the Pastasa side 
of the cordillera of the White Ones. The two 
canoes immediately behind carried Jose, McKay, 
and Nune as watchful idlers in the one, and 
Knowlton and Tim in the other. The very last 
boat in the wriggly file brought Aillu, guarding 
against any chance of straggling. 

Except for the many slight sipping sounds of 
paddles entering and leaving the water, the 
column journeyed in utter silence. Now and 
then, from far above, where the sunlight blazed, 
sounded the raucous cries of macaws, deadened 
by height and intervening foliage. Whatever 
life moved nearer at hand made no noise. To 
187 


188 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


the eyes of the voyagers no life was visible ex¬ 
cept an occasional venomous snake in the black 
mud at the shores. 

Abruptly a grunt broke from Curac. He rose 
to his knees, his carbine swinging to his shoulder. 
From the paddles of his canoemen sounded a 
seething growl of water suddenly opposed; the 
boat checked as they reversed their 'strokes. 
Instantly a prolonged splash filled the air just 
ahead. A big, dark log which had been lying 
partly out of the water hurled itself down¬ 
stream, moving so fast that the startled eyes of 
the Americans caught only a white surge which 
subsided into turbulent waves. The log was a 
great anaconda. 

“Sangre de Cristo!” swore Jose. “That beast 
made me jump. I am glad he moved before we 
were above him.” Then his quick grin crinkled 
under his mustache, and he added: “Nune, 
you see that we travel with the favor of both 
the gods. That w’as Yacumama, and he did not 
hurt us. He has gone before us to crush our 
enemies.” 

She made no answer, but the troubled look 
came again into her face. As their paddlers 
resumed the usual speed Jose chuckled repeat¬ 
edly over his joke. Whether the others liked it 
or not, this chance to tease the girl had been too 
good to lose. Had he looked again at her, he 
would have found her staring soberly at her gold 
cross. But he gave her no further attention. 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 189 

Cruising onward, they saw nothing more of 
the great snake. It had vanished into the mud. 

For all the quietness of their movement, they 
were traveling at the best possible speed. No 
tree trunks blocked them, although plenty of 
fallen giants slanted across the steep banks above 
their heads. They had embarked about mid¬ 
forenoon, and no pause was made for eating. 
Each paddler, as he grew hungry, stopped work 
long enough to gobble a few mouthfuls of meat 
paste and masata, then swung on again. At no 
time did any boat slacken its pace. 

Hour after hour they journeyed on. At 
length the scattered sun splotches began to 
strike into their eyes whenever McKay’s com¬ 
pass showed the veering lane to run westward. 
Presently the scout boat slowed. Curac arose 
and held up a hand. A series of grunts ran 
back from boat to boat, and paddling ceased. 
Curac’s dugout slipped forward, heading into 
an apparent blockade of brush. It wormed out 
of sight and was gone. 

Soon it reappeared. Curac spoke briefly, with 
no attempt at muffling his tones. The line 
surged forward again. Along a bush-choked 
passage it squirmed—and out into open water 
where the sun struck with dazzling brilliancy. 
An invisible hand grasped the canoes and swept 
them fast to the southward. They were in a 
hurrying river, flanked on both shores by the 
ever-present tropical timber. 


igo THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

“Once more we are at the Pastasa,” an¬ 
nounced Jose. “Now we shall make speed.” 

And make speed they did, for perhaps an¬ 
other hour. The water, though swift with the 
current scooting down from the distant Andes, 
was smooth, and the overcrowded craft suffered 
no mishap. As the grilling sun approached the 
lofty crest of the tree line, Jose called to Curac, 
who pointed a little ahead. Within ten minutes 
his dugout swerved shoreward, swung into a 
narrow opening, and was gone. The others, 
following, found themselves entering a spacious 
lagoon, sandy shored and concealed from the 
river by a narrow but dense tree fringe. Soon 
the entire flotilla was inside the bottle-necked 
bay and debarking on the shelving sands. 

“So ends this day,” yawned Jose, stretching 
himself like a lean cat. He surveyed the land¬ 
ing activities of his warriors, cocked an eye at 
the sky, and nodded. The canoes, having dis¬ 
gorged their men, were being moored at a little 
distance out, their long ropes lying loosely in 
order to allow for any quick rise or fall of the 
water caused by cloudbursts in the distant moun¬ 
tains. The men not engaged in this anchoring 
were bringing armloads of long plantain leaves 
from the bush and shoving the stalks into the 
sand, forming frail but dew-proof hoods. 
Weatherwise as the animals of their native 
woods, they foresaw that this would be a rain¬ 
less night, and so were bedding on the sun-dried 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 191 

ground. As a matter of course, they built shel¬ 
ters also for their king and his companions— 
three of them, at the spot where the whites had 
landed. 

The ex-soldiers, watching the rapid construc¬ 
tion of the leaf tents and observing the size of 
each, smiled reminiscently. 

“Looks like a real army camp this time,” 
commented Knowlton. “Pup tents, with room 
for two buddies in each. Do your men sleep 
double as a regular thing?” 

“Yes, when sleeping on the ground. It is for 
warmth. They have no covering, you know, and 
the ground grows cold before sunrise. Now 
let us bathe, before the sun goes under. Curac I” 

To the chieftain he gave directions, mean¬ 
while sharply scanning the surface. No croco¬ 
diles were in sight. Warriors, obeying Curac, 
waded in with spears. Several of them stabbed 
at spots on the bottom, then lifted their lances. 
Impaled on the points, hideous flat creatures 
lashed whiplike tails—sting-rays, furiously strug¬ 
gling to drive their gangrenous tail barbs into 
the hardwood shafts. The disgusting things 
were hurled ashore, where machete men cut them 
to pieces. 

When the water was declared safe the five 
plunged in, the men garbed only in breeches, 
the girl in her short tanga. A quick swim—with 
eyes ever open for some vindictive denizen of 
tropic waters which might have been overlooked 


' i 9 2 THE KING OF NO MAN'S LAND 

—and they emerged refreshed. The last fierce 
rays of the sinking sun dried their wet garments 
in a trice. 

Then the warriors took their dip and were 
out again. In the twilight were born the night 
fires, and to that of Jose came men bearing good- 
sized fish which they had expertly speared far¬ 
ther down the lagoon. While these delicacies 
w r ere cooking, the Americans glanced again 
down the long line of shelters, before which the 
slim lances stood erect like deadly sprouts from 
the erstwhile empty sand. They contemplated 
the little fires spotting the half gloom, the squat¬ 
ting or moving figures of fighters, the fleet of 
canoes resting on the water like uncouth river 
beasts patiently awaiting the next day’s move. 

“Yeah, this here sure feels like the real thing, 
I’ll tell the world,” approved Tim. “A reg’lar 
gang o’ he-gorillas campin’ like doughboys, not 
hangin’ up in hammicks like navy gobs. Come 
on, Looey, le’s go inspect quarters—see how 
these guys have got things laid out. No? Ye’re 
gittin’ fat and lazy. Aw, wal, here’s Noonay, 
all dressed up—got her nightie on and every¬ 
thing. I’d rather walk with her, anyways. 
Come, on, Noony—vamos—anda conmigo— 
looka da soldados—you know. Savvy?” 

But Nune laughed at him and sank gracefully 
beside Jose, awaiting her share of the savory 
fish. Tim snorted, reddened, and sauntered 
away alone, pursued by the derisive laughter of 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 193 

Jose. When the meal was ready he had van¬ 
ished somewhere among the huts, and a mes¬ 
senger sent to find him returned with the 
information that he was eating with a sargento 
and several other warriors. 

In the thin light of the young moon, Aillu 
strode soft footed to the royal fire and squatted 
awhile with Curac and Jose, conferring about 
future plans. When the pair arose and departed 
they were grinning. Jose, catching the in¬ 
quiring gaze of the Americans, returned it as 
if weighing something in his mind. After a 
moment he glanced about in search of Tim. 
Finding him still gone, he laughed shortly and 
arose. 

“Our friend Tim grows restless,” he com¬ 
mented. “Soon we may show him something of 
interest. Buenas noches.” He stepped toward 
the shelter which he and McKay were to share 
between them. 

“What’s up?” called Knowlton. 

Jose gave no sign of having heard. Reach¬ 
ing his leaf tent, he squatted, frogged his way 
inside, and was still. Knowlton frowned. 

“I don’t like that,” he muttered. “He 
heard.” 

McKay nodded, glancing cornerwise at him. 
Both smoked a minute, finished their cigarettes, 
shoved the coals into the sand. 

“Look here, Rod,” Knowlton went on, speak¬ 
ing low. “I’m wondering. Does it strike you 


194 >THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

that things aren’t quite so open and aboveboard 
as they might be?” 

“You mean—” McKay moved his head 
toward Jose. 

“Uh-huh.” 

“How so?” 

“Well, we’re sort of trailing along in the 
dark; taking our friend yonder on faith. He 
hasn’t let us in on his plans since we started. I 
always like to have a look at what I’m going to 
do before I do it. You understand.” 

Another nod, and a silent pause. 

“And another thing,” Knowlton went on, as 
if thinking aloud. “We’re here to get Dave— 
safe. Friend J. is out to get Dave—safe or 
otherwise. His main idea is to smash Dave’s 
outfit. We three come in very handily as smash¬ 
ers. That’s all right—as long as we don’t slip 
into the position of subordinates and allow our¬ 
selves to be used as such. When a fellow begins 
to assume that I’ll trail along with my eyes shut 
I begin to smell around a little, no matter who 
he is.” 

Once more McKay nodded, digging a thumb 
absently into the sand. Their value as gun- 
fighters was self-evident. So was the fact that 
the Jose of to-day was a man accustomed to com¬ 
manding the services of others and to subordin¬ 
ating every other consideration to the develop¬ 
ment of his little kingdom. These wordly-wise 
veterans were no strangers to the changes 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 195 

wrought in men by accession to power or by 
dominating ambition; they had witnessed such 
transformations—most of them for the worse. 
And it was unpleasantly obvious that Aillu and 
Curac, who were Indians and subordinates, had 
just been given some information cavalierly with¬ 
held from themselves, who were white men and 
presumably peers of Jose. 

“Doesn’t look good,” agreed McKay. “But 
we’ll see. Meanwhile, guess I’ll turn in. Going 
to wait up for Tim?” 

“Not I. Let him sleep with the Indians if 
he likes. ’Night.” 

Knowlton was still awake, however, when 
Tim came creeping into the shelter. Feigning 
sleep, he covertly studied the other’s face in the 
moonlight now slanting in at the open end of 
the hood. Tim’s nose seemed swollen and he 
breathed with some difficulty. Lying down, he 
fingered the injured member tenderly. 

“Serves you right!” Knowlton erupted. 
“Whose tent did you try to get into, you night 
walker?” 

“Huh? Aw, say, d’ye think I dunno me way 
home? I jest been wrastlin’ with one o’ the boys.” 

“Meaning what?” 

“Meanin’ jest that. Been hangin’ round with 
some hard guys down yonder—one of ’em could 
talk a li’l’ bum Spinach, and between that and 
makin’ signs we got along fine. Had a great ol’ 
parley-voo about nothin’ much. Then we got 


196 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

foolin’ round, and I thought it’d be a good joke 
to pull a few wrastlin’ holds on ’em. But these 
guys ain’t got no sense o’ humor. The gink I 
had a holt of, he butted me in the nose so hard 
he knocked me for a row o’ bananas, and before 
I could git up he dang near unjointed me. Ye 
know me, Looey—I’ve handled some tough eggs 
before now. But I don’t want no more o’ that 
guy’s stuff. Course, I had to go easy and laff 
like ’twas all a joke—’twas either laff or kill 
him, and that wouldn’t do. But I tell ye these 
here gorillas are hard, Looey, the hardest nuts 
I ever seen. I’m goin’ to lay off ’em.” 

u You’d better I You wild Irishman, they’re 
killers, every one of ’em. You’re lucky that you 
got out of it without a broken neck.” 

“Faith, I believe ye. But don’t tell Hozy. 
Them bright jokes o’ his are gittin’ sour on me 
stummick, and if he started kiddin’ me about this 
here nose o’ mine I’d likely slip me temper and 
paste him one. Then we’d be in the soup for 
fair.” 

“You bet we would. Well, forget it and 
pound your ear. I’ll keep it dark.” 

Tim speedily went to sleep. But Knowlton 
lay a little longer awake, frowning at the leaves 
above. Tim, too, was becoming a bit uncordial 
toward Jose. His distaste for the Spaniard’s 
jokes might grow into downright dislike; and 
when Tim disliked any man he was never at 
pains to disguise his sentiments. Tiny seeds of 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 197 

discord were beginning to sprout, and Knowlton 
knew from previous experience that the tempers 
of fighting men form fertile soil for the rapid 
growth of such seeds. 

“Things aren’t so good,” he thought. “If 
this sort of thing keeps on developing, the lid 
may blow off sudden and hard, and somebody ’ll 
get hurt. Wish I’d kept my mouth shut to Rod 
to-night. Well, I’ll keep it shut hereafter unless 
there’s mighty good cause to open it. And I’ll 
try to sit on the lid awhile and see if I can hold 
it down.” 

So, when Jose stared at Tim’s bulging nose in 
the morning and Tim’s jaw began to protrude, 
Knowlton casually said: 

“That nose ought to be on me, and a couple 
of shiners to boot. I dreamed last night that a 
Jivero was at me, and before I knew where I 
was I’d smashed Tim in the face. Guess I’m 
getting nervous.” 

“Por Dios! Senor Tim, you must tie his 
hands to-night!” snickered Jose. “He has been 
eating too much monkey meat, yes? We shall 
feed him on fish for a time.” 

Tim grunted something, and the incident 
passed. They were soon on the move, and if 
Jose ever learned the truth about the Irishman’s 
mishap he said nothing. Later, in their canoe, 
Tim muttered: “Thanks, Looey. I woke up 
with a grouch, and I’d sure have started a war 
if ye hadn’t carried the hod like that.” 


i 9 8 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

“Enough said. Swallow your grouches here¬ 
after^ 

Down the river they swept, pestered more 
and more by mosquitoes as the sun rolled higher 
and the water grew more muddy. The Pastasa 
was widening, the current losing the force with 
which it had leaped down its long canon from 
the far-off falls of Agoyan. Now the voyagers 
were in the real mud country where insect pests 
breed by the millions, and it was with vast relief 
that they turned, at mid-afternoon, into a 
shadowy stream issuing from the western bank. 
There the plague of the little stinging demons 
lost much of its virulence. 

In all the nine hours since the morning start 
they had seen no sign of man, nothing but empty 
water and unbroken walls of green. Somewhere 
down ahead, they supposed, the canoe of Lieu¬ 
tenant Manuel Montez was doggedly driving 
back to the Amazon. Nowhere else, in all the 
four hundred miles between the great continen¬ 
tal stream and the Andean villages near the 
junction of the Chambo and the Patate—where 
the Pastasa was born—was any other repre¬ 
sentative of civilization. 

Perhaps an hour later the canoes halted for 
another night. Again camp was made in the 
thick bush, and Tim once more found himself 
forced to hang in a hammock. Except for an 
increase of vigilance and a more wary silence, the 
White Ones showed no indication of such caution 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 199 

as might be expected on entering enemy country. 
Unlike the comparatively small party with which 
the adventurers had first traveled, they kept the 
night fires burning, secure in the belief that no 
foe strong enough to attack them was near. 

‘‘What’s the name of this stream, Jose?” 
queried Knowlton. “Or has it any name?” 

“Si. This is the Yana Yacu.” 

As on the previous evening, the Spaniard 
looked at the Americans and seemed to debate 
something with himself, then decide against it. 
At the sound of the name Tim had suddenly be¬ 
come alert, and his eyes bored into the other’s 
face. Jose said no more, and presently he 
walked away. Tim’s mouth set in a hard line. 

“Hey, listen here, fellers!” he rumbled. 
“Hozy ain’t playin’ square. He’s holdin’ out on 
us.” 

“Meaning?” demanded McKay. 

“Meanin’ he don’t come clean. Meanin’ I’ve 
got the low-down about this here, now, Yarny 
Yakoo place. Got it last night before that but¬ 
tin’ goat knocked it out o’ me head. That big 
chief with the ugly mug—the one Hozy calls I- 
you—come along and give the bush sergeant a 
tip, and when he was gone I worked it out o’ 
the sarge. Up here on this Yarny Yakoo there’s 
a gang o’ head-hunters, and we’re goin’ to mop 
’em up! 

“Did he tip you guys off to that?” 

“No,” admitted McKay. 


200 THE KING OF NO MAN'S LAND 


“Uh-huh. Wal, what’s the idea? Looks to 
me like he don’t trust us or somethin’. If he 
don’t trust us, I sure don’t trust him! And I 
mind he said he’d kill Dave ‘if necessary.’ And 
he said Noony could take that there barbasco 
poison, for all he cared, or somethin’ like that. 
He don’t care what comes of anybody but his 
own gang. As long’s he wins out, Dave and 
Noony can go to the divil—and so can Ryan 
and McKay and Knowltonl I’m off him!” 

His mates glanced at each other, frowning, as 
their own brief talk of the previous night leaped 
into their minds. 

“Sure you didn’t misunderstand that Indian?” 
clipped McKay. 

“Dead sure!” 

“All right. Keep mum.” The captain’s tone 
hardened. “We’ll be dummies just a little 
longer—and see what happens.” 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE FRUIT OF DISCORD 

I T was about noon on the second day there¬ 
after when the scout boat of Curac sud¬ 
denly slowed, then stopped. Its bow paddler 
had picked something from the water and 
Curac was examining it. As the canoe of Jose 
slid alongside, the chief mutely held out the find 
to his commander. 

It was nothing but a chip, hacked from some 
tree by a dull machete or stone ax. Yet it was 
indisputable evidence of the presence of men 
somewhere beyond. Jose nodded, and the lead¬ 
ing boat resumed its way. But now it traveled 
with redoubled stealth, and the attitudes of its 
paddlers betrayed tense watching of everything 
ahead. 

Before long another sign was spied and seiz¬ 
ed. This time it was a two-inch, convex flake of 
charred wood. To the eyes of McKay, who 
glanced at it, it told no story except that it had 
been in fire. But to Curac it was no mere de¬ 
bris from a camp fire, but a fragment gouged 
from an embryo canoe in process of construc¬ 
tion by fire and ax. This obviously betokened 
the existence of a settlement. 


201 


202 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


The Yana Yacu here was hardly a stone’s 
throw in width, though deep enough to afford 
unhampered progress. Yet Curac, instead of 
pressing on up the river to find the town, began 
keenly watching along the shores as if seeking 
some subsidiary stream. Slowly the tangle on 
either side slid past, and with inaudible strokes 
the paddles rose and fell. Then a soft grunt 
floated back from the scarred veteran and his 
bow nosed into an opening at the right. 

Jose, without looking backward, raised an 
arm high overhead and held it rigid a moment. 
The signal passed back from canoe to canoe un¬ 
til every crew along the winding waterway was 
warned. Meanwhile the king’s boat glided past 
the mouth of the tributary, grounding at the 
shore a little above. The craft of Curac, 
moving with utter silence, was proceeding up the 
new stream. 

In steady succession the crowded canoes be¬ 
hind crept up and berthed above that of Jose, 
disgorging their crews into the bush. Nobody 
spoke. The only sounds were rustlings among 
the leaves and the distant yapping of toucans 
somewhere farther upstream. At length all 
were ashore and the canoes secured to snags or 
bush stalks. Then Jose, who had been critically 
watching, turned to the Americans and calmly 
spoke. 

“I am hungry,” he said. “Let us eat some 
monkey paste and—” 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 203 

“CripesI” snorted Tim. “Eat? How quick 
do we git into action?” 

“I have not said anything about action, have 
I?” 

“No, ye dummy, but we’re wise. Let’s go l” 

Jose looked keenly at him, then laughed. To 
Aillu, who now stood beside him, he muttered 
some command. The chieftain passed into the 
bush, grunting briefly to the warriors. They 
coolly got their tubes of meat and masata and 
fell to eating. 

“All in good time, friend Tim, all in good 
time,” said Jose. “The scouts must first smell 
out the land, and it may take some time. So we 
had best be patient and eat. And how do you 
know so much about my purpose here?” 

“Never mind. Mebbe I dremp it last night— 
though I still dunno why ye come here to scrap 
with Jiveros when we want to git to the Warm 
Beezers.” 

“That is what you shall soon learn.” 

“Yeah? Thanks!” 

Tim’s tone was sarcastic. He might have 
said more, but a headshake by McKay silenced 
him. 

Some time passed. Jose was taciturn. The 
others ate and waited. At length a voice began 
to mumble, and the Americans stared in astonish¬ 
ment at Curac, reporting to his commander. 
There had been no sound to indicate his coming, 
and he seemed to have materialized from the 


204 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

air. Aillu, too, was now standing beside Jose 
and listening. 

After a short conference the pair turned 
away and were gone in the bush. Jose, lounging 
against a tree, carefully dug up a little rubber 
pouch and began making a cigarette. 

“Say l” blurted Knowlton. “When do we 
fight ?” 

“Not yet. There is plenty of time. The place 
is not far. Let my capitanes arrange their 
forces .* 1 

“Big place?’’ asked McKay, moving his head 
in the supposed direction of the Jivero settle¬ 
ment. Jose shrugged noncommittally, struck a 
match, and puffed at his roll of bark and tobacco, 
regarding the restive trio with a mocking ex¬ 
pression. 

He smoked the cigarette very deliberately, 
and not until it was reduced to a tiny stub did 
he move. Meanwhile the Indians nearest at 
hand remained squatting, only the slight move¬ 
ments of their carbines or lances betraying the 
tension of the wait. Those who had landed 
farther upstream were out of sight in the thick 
growth. At last, w r ith the same deliberation, 
Jose moved to his canoe. 

“Vamos,” he said. McKay strode to the 
dugout, and Knowlton and Tim to theirs. Then 
McKay checked, glancing at Nune, who had 
been an impassive waiter and w 7 ho now sought 
to resume her usual place. 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 205 

‘‘Going to take her into this row?” he asked. 

“Why not? Are we not able to defend 
her? Get in.” 

Nune was in place already, and Jose also. 
With no further comment, McKay took his 
own place. The paddlers gave way, and the 
canoe glided downstream, then swerved into 
the tributary where Curac had gone scouting. 
Curac now had mysteriously disappeared again, 
and Jose was heading the line. 

The boat proceeded slowly. McKay, nar¬ 
row eyed and tight jawed, peered fixedly ahead. 
Jose sat more loosely, though with rifle ready. 
Nune remained impassive. In the next canoe, 
Knowlton and Tim leaned forward, tense and 
eager. And behind them came other dugouts 
bristling with weapons. 

Bend after bend was rounded, and still no 
sign of Jiveros was seen. Suddenly every man 
jumped as if fired upon from the bush. The 
silence had been shattered by an inferno of 
noise. 

Gunshots crashed in a sustained roar. A 
howling chorus of ferocity mingled with a pro¬ 
longed screech of fear and hate. The uproar 
came from some point not far ahead, the noise 
rolling down the tree-arched creek like a wall of 
water sweeping through a tunnel. And it kept 
coming. 

The canoe of the king leaped ahead under 
sudden powerful strokes of the paddles. From 


206 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


Jose snapped a sharp command that cracked 
like a whiplash. The paddlers grudgingly fell 
back into the previous slow stroke. 

McKay, usually holding himself in cool con¬ 
trol, broke his restraint with a wrathful de¬ 
mand. 

‘‘What’s the idea? Why don’t you get go¬ 
ing?” 

“Hey, snap into it I” came Tim’s growl. 
“What’s busted loose up ahead there?” 

“You shall see,” came Jose’s maddening an¬ 
swer to both. And he held his men to the same 
crawl. 

The tumult approached, yet diminished. 
Abruptly it ended. The canoe, rounding another 
bend, emerged beside a semicleared space of 
rising ground. At the water’s edge lay a row 
of canoes, and a few rods up the shore a pole 
palisade rose among the tree trunks still 
standing. 

Through a gap in the wall suddenly darted 
three Jiveros, who dashed straight for the 
empty canoes. Before the Americans could catch 
an aim at them, gunshots crackled from above. 
The Jiveros sprawled headlong and lay still. 
In the gateway stood other Indians—lighter 
and leaner Indians—who lowered rifles from 
their shoulders and turned back into the en¬ 
closure. They were White Ones. 

For an instant there was silence. The truth 
flashed over the three northerners. While Jose 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 207 

kept them waiting, he had sent Aillu and Curac 
with a strong force by land to attack and con¬ 
quer the Jiveros. 

Tim exploded. 

“Hell’s bells!’’ he raved. “Of all the dirty 
rotten low-down tricks ye ever pulled, Hozy 
Marteeny, this is the limit! Who d’ye think 
we are—a bunch o’ school-teachers viewin’ the 
battlefields after the war? We ain’t good 
enough to fight alongside o’ yer lousy Injuns, 
hey? We stay back with the woman, hey? 
This is one more o’ yer smart jokes, hey? It’s 
the last one ye’ll pull on me!” 

“Tim! Shut up!” barked Knowlton. 

Tim, fighting mad, turned on him with a 
glare and a growl. More hot words sprang to 
his lips—but died unspoken. Knowlton had 
once been his superior officer, and in any clash 
of wills between them the ex-sergeant’s old 
habit of soldierly obedience still reasserted itself. 
And the former lieutenant now was no longer 
an easy-going partner—he was once more a 
stone-faced, steel-eyed, tight-mouthed officer. 
Under the fierce intensity of his gaze Tim 
clamped his jaws together and was dumb. 

Then Knowlton shot one glance at Jose. It 
was as sharp as a rapier—and as cold. The 
next instant the canoes grounded at the shore. 

The three northerners stepped out. Without 
a word McKay strode away from Jose and 


206 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


joined his partners; and without another look 
at him they advanced up the hilh 

For a full half minute the king of the White 
Ones stood and stared after them. Though 
Knowlton had stopped Tim’s tongue, it was un¬ 
mistakably plain that the Irishman’s words ex¬ 
pressed the feeling of all three of them; plain, 
too, that they were unitedly marching away from 
him because they preferred his room to his 
company. A red wave swept over the Span¬ 
iard’s leathery cheeks. 

“Sangre de Cristo!” he hissed. 

Then, gulping down his sudden rage, he fol¬ 
lowed them. His Indians, in a compact mass, 
came at his back. 

Through the gap in the wall passed the north¬ 
erners, and into a stumpy clearing where stood 
several peak-roofed huts. Men were moving 
rapidly about, but there was no more fighting. 
Here and there a spear or a machete rose and 
struck downward, ending the life of some 
wounded Jivero among the stumps. Herded 
together at a central hut seemed to be a knot of 
prisoners. Bodies littered the ground; bodies 
of chocolate-skinned head-shrinkers, some with 
weapons beside them, more with none. It was 
apparent that this affair could hardly be called 
a fight. Caught by surprise and shot down— 
the wounded now being ruthlessly slain—the 
Jiveros were simply massacred. 

The Americans knew well that this was the 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 209 

jungle mode of warfare, that it was the favorite 
method of the head-hunters themselves, and that 
any mercy to them would be asinine. Yet the 
sight of unarmed men riddled with bullets was 
hardly conducive to a restoration of good feel¬ 
ing toward Jose. At the same time, it blunted 
the edge of their resentment at having been 
kept out of the affair. They would have taken 
little pleasure in participating in such an attack. 

Warriors of the White Ones, their usually 
impassive faces aglow with battle lust, grinned 
wolfishly at them, then passed on in search for 
survivors. The three marched on to the central 
hut. There, as they expected, they found a 
round-up of women guarded by hard-eyed Su- 
mataras. They found also, however, something 
totally unexpected—three live Jivero men. 

One of the Sumataras—recognized by Tim as 
the sargento with whom he had supped at the 
Pastasa lagoon—called their attention, by an 
unintelligible sentence and a gesture, to the male 
prisoners. He seemed quite proud of the fact 
that they had been caught alive and unhurt ex¬ 
cept for bloody bumps on their heads. The 
northerners looked blankly at him. When 
other Jiveros were slain at sight, why should 
these be spared? And, above all, why should a 
White One be proud of it? 

All three of the captives were bound with 
bush cord, and two of them were darting glances 
about them as if momentarily expecting death. 


2io THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


The third—a tall, powerful savage with waist- 
long hair, a profusion of tooth necklaces, and 
snaky lines tattooed on chest and arms—glow¬ 
ered at his captors and ground his black filed 
teeth with rage. At the white men, too, he 
glared ferocious hate. For a minute or two 
he stood with malevolent gaze centered on them, 
defiant in the face of an unknown fate. Then 
his beady eyes focused beyond them. Into the 
insolent orbs crept a flicker of fear. 

Jose had come up. His gaze was fixed on 
the big Jivero, and so baleful was it that the 
savage flinched. He said nothing. He only 
stood there, holding the head-hunter’s eyes, 
piercing to the core of his bestial soul, until 
beads of cold sweat stood out on the brown face 
and the thick lips twitched nervously. 

“Who caught this one?” the Spaniard 
brusquely demanded, without removing his gaze. 

“I,” proudly announced the sargento, slap¬ 
ping himself on the chest. 

“You are a good warrior. I shall remember.” 

Whereat the sargento swelled. To the listen¬ 
ing Americans the mystery now was clear. The 
prisoners lived because Jose had previously or¬ 
dered that captives be taken. 

The big Jivero suddenly moved his head, 
twisting it aside to break the contact with the 
Spaniard’s torturing eyes. His fellow prison¬ 
ers, after one look, had kept their gaze away 
from the conqueror. Now Jose glanced again 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 211 


at them, looked at the women and children, 
scanned the huts, and gave short commands. All 
the women were herded away toward the near¬ 
est house. The two cowed Jivero men were 
seized and dragged toward another. The tall 
savage, prodded by a red-stained spear point and 
directed by a harsh growl from the sargento, 
turned and slunk into the central house. 

Not once had Jose looked at the Americans. 
Nor did he look at them now. Ignoring them 
as utterly as they had ignored him after landing, 
he stepped toward the house into which the 
Jivero and his guards had gone. But just then, 
from warriors farther out, came a shout which 
halted him. 

“Diablo!” he muttered. “Is it so?” 

From a house some distance away a war¬ 
rior came running among the stumps, leaping 
upward now and then to avoid fallen Jiveros. 
In one hand he held some small object which he 
repeatedly raised aloft. As he approached he 
called something. 

Jose stared blankly at the northerners, all 
animosity knocked from his mind. To them he' 
spoke. 

“So end the ambitions of republics in this 
land of devils, and so fare the messages of 
kings. It seems that Peru will wait long for 
the message it sought from me.” 

The runner pattered up, stopped, and ex¬ 
tended his hand. From it, dangling by black 


2i2 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


hair uncut for many weeks, hung a freshly cured 
little human head. So expertly preserved were 
its features, so lifelike was the thin smile into 
which some diabolical Jivero had formed the 
mouth, that it seemed again to be leering at the 
comely wine-pouring girl in the council hall of 
the White Ones. 

The Peruvian Force of Security of the East 
would indeed wait a long time—through all 
eternity—for the reappearance of Lieutenant 
Manuel Montez. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE TEMPTATION OF TIM 
BOLD, brave fellow,” mused Jose, som- 



r\ berly regarding the little face which now 
seemed to mock at all human desire. “I will 
gamble that he took more than one Jivero into 
the land of shadows with him. And he shall 
have a fitting funeral.” 

To the sargento who had captured the big 
Jivero he gave commands. At once the man 
went away. Jose, carrying the head, entered the 
house. After a glance at one another, the 
Americans lounged in after him. Nune, who 
had come up with the canoemen as a matter of 
course, followed. 

The interior of the place differed little from 
the customary head-hunter habitation. The us¬ 
ual low bamboo couches and high meat racks 
were there; clay pots and jars lay about the dirt 
floor; and overhead were suspended blowguns, 
spears, baskets, and ripening bunches of plan¬ 
tains. One of the beds, however, was somewhat 
more ornate than ordinary, its rails being deco¬ 
rated with feather-work snugly glued down; and 
on the wall above it hung a magnificent black- 
jaguar hide and a cluster of shrunken heads. 


214 the KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

From these indications, as well as its central 
location, the strangers judged it to be the home 
of the chief of the tribe; and the powerful sav¬ 
age, they assumed, was the chief himself. This 
proved, however, to be not quite correct. The 
chief was dead, and the captive was the wizard 
of the settlement. 

Ringed by menacing foes, he stood with a 
hangdog air, awaiting whatever doom might be 
pronounced on him. To his evident surprise, 
the Spaniard ordered his bonds removed. Then 
he was made to squat before the decorated 
couch, and on that couch Jose took his seat, the 
head of Montez still in his hands. On that head 
the Jivero’s black eyes fixed. The house grew 
as still as a tomb. 

In harsh accents the outlaw king began to 
talk. His words were incomprehensible to the 
Americans, and, apparently, to the prisoner. 
The threat in the rasping tones, however, was 
unmistakable. When Jose ceased, another 
voice commenced. It was that of the ubiquitous 
Curac, translating into the Jivero tongue the 
words spoken in Sumatara by his ruler. If any¬ 
thing, his voice was even more rough than that 
of Jose; and his face, usually so deceptively 
good-humored because of his upturned scar, now 
seemed to wear the grin of a demon. The Jivero 
again began to sweat. 

When Curac had finished, the captive made 
no answer. Again Jose talked; again Curac re- 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 215 

peated. Still no answer. The beady eyes flick¬ 
ered from side to side as if seeking a chance 
for a desperate lunge for safety—and finding 
none. Jose, leaning forward, aggressively be¬ 
gan a third speech. 

Apparently the session would last for a con¬ 
siderable time. McKay and Knowlton, keenly 
watching faces, tried to deduce the nature and 
purpose of the inquisition. Tim, still rankling, 
found the meaningless jargon and the brow¬ 
beating by Jose jarring on his temper. He 
swung on a heel and walked out of the place. 

Outside he paused, viewing the surroundings 
and trying to decide which way to turn his rest¬ 
less feet. The Sumataras now were moving 
about the clearing and picking up Jiveros, whom 
they bore to a spot near by and piled in a heap. 
As Tim watched, a slight sound behind him drew 
his head around. On his morose face dawned a 
smile. Nune had followed him. 

She smiled straight back at him, and smiled 
most winsomely. More than that, she mani¬ 
fested a desire to walk with him. With a slight 
inclination of the head she indicated an empty 
house near at hand. He needed no second 
invitation. In a few minutes they were out of 
the scorching sun, and also out of sight and 
hearing of those remaining in the central 
structure. 

There, in the shadows, she speedily made 
plain the object of her unexpected move. 


216 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

“Teem,” she said, “which is most your 
friend—Rana, or that man called Jose?” 

“Rana!” The tone was sourly emphatic. 

“And those two with you—Rodrigo and the 
light one—are they true friends to Rana?” 
“Si!” 

“Is the man Jose your master? Must you 
obey him?” 

The question probably was not meant to infur¬ 
iate Tim, but it did. 

“Him?” he sputtered in English. “Not in 
a million years! He’s a swelled-headed mutt 
that’s so bloated up over bossin’ a few Injuns 
he thinks he can use white men the same way. 
But he’s through! Thinks we’re a bunch o’ 
dumbbells— Aw, ye don’t understand.” In 
Spanish he said: “No. We are free men. He 
is master of nothing but Indians.” 

She smiled again, seeming pleased by the 
obvious anger she had evoked, and stole a little 
closer to him. 

“It is well,” she said. “You are strong men 
and true friends of Rana. Nune is a true friend 
of Rana. That Jose is not a friend of Rana. 
He goes to kill Rana and my people who are 
the friends of Rana. He laughs at you and 
your friends. He makes monkeys of you three 
strong men. 

“Why do you not leave him? He thinks he 
is very wise. Yet he does not know where Rana 
can be found. With his many men he can kill 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 217 

Jiveros who did not see him coming. A woman 
could do that. But with all his men he cannot 
find Rana. Nune can find Rana. Nune would 
go fast to Rana. Nune can lead you to him. 
Why do you not leave this Jose behind and go 
with Nune to your friend?” 

Tim’s eyes widened. 

“Como ? How?” 

“It is easy—if you dare. See. The day is 
old. All will stay here to-night. At the water 
are many canoes. The moon will shine. Speak 
quietly to the tall man and the light one. When 
all sleep, come with Nune to the water. We go. 
We go fast. We go long. We go far ahead of 
these others. Nune is strong. She will work 
hard. With four paddles, with your guns, with 
Nune to guide and show you the tricks of the 
forest, we speed to Rana. So you shall find your 
friend. So you shall make a monkey of the so- 
wise man Jose.” 

For a moment Tim was swept by hot impulses. 
The alert girl had plucked shrewdly at the most 
vibrant strings in his make-up. To reach Rand 
—to “beat Hozy to it,” and thus, as Nune said, 
to make a monkey of him—that would be a re¬ 
taliation which appealed irresistibly to his pres¬ 
ent mood. Then, too, the lure of romantic ad¬ 
venture, of swift action, of a death-defying dash 
through head-hunter-land with only his two 
partners and the girl—this struck a resonant 
chord. And those subtle words—“if you dare” 


2 18 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


—spoken by a girl whose impelling gaze burned 
into his and whose seductive will strove to bend 
him to the fulfillment of her desires! For 
ages, men with blood far colder than that of 
Tim Ryan have fallen before those three words 
spoken in that way. 

Yet Tim’s was an honest soul, and a bellig¬ 
erently straightforward one. To sneak away 
at night, like a deserter, was an idea which did 
not appeal. To him it smacked of cowardice, 
of treachery. His way of leaving Jose, if he 
should leave, would be to walk off in broad day¬ 
light and truculently defy the Spaniard and all 
his gang to stop him. Cunning and stealth were 
foreign to his nature, just as they were instinc¬ 
tive to junglebred Nune. Yet Nune was play¬ 
ing the game fairly enough. She was a captive, 
seeking only to escape and reach the man of her 
heart in time to save him; the three Americans 
would be stalwart defenders for her in a land 
where she would need them, and they claimed to 
be friends of Rana; so she was frankly taking 
advantage of her opportunity. 

While Tim wavered, she added: 

“To stay with Jose will do no good. To him 
Nune will never show the way. Without the 
word of Nune he will fail. When we reach my 
country—” 

She did not finish, but he understood. At the 
Morona she would escape alone somehow, or 
die in the attempt. Again he felt the impulse 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 219 

to turn his back on Jose and fare forward with 
his own countrymen. 

“Bien. I will speak to my friends,” he prom¬ 
ised. 

She smiled again. 

“It is well. Now let us go back to them. 
Nune would hear what is said.” 

“Do you understand their talk?” 

“Si. The man Jose asks how the head of the 
white man was taken. Come.” 

They emerged again into the sun. As they 
walked back, Tim was thinking hard; but not 
too hard to affect carelessness for the benefit 
of any watching eyes. In fact, he yawned as if 
bored by the whole place, and stopped a couple 
of times en route as if vainly seeking something 
of interest. Reaching the house, he and Nune 
sauntered inside as casually as they had come 
out. The “third degree” was still in progress, 
and nobody gave them any attention. 

A change had come over the Jivero. His eyes 
had become steady, and in growling tones he was 
talking. Jose, who seemed to have a little 
knowledge of the Jivero language, apparently 
understood some of the talk, but not all of it. 
When the captive was silent Curac translated. 
Jose nodded, looked down thoughtfully at the 
head of Montez, and carefully laid it aside. 

At that moment a warrior of the White Ones 
walked in, stepped to the side of his king, and 
muttered several sentences. He was one of 


220 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


those who could speak and understand Spanish 
quite well, but now he used his own language. 
When he had done, Jose sat very still. Pres¬ 
ently he voiced one laconic word. The warrior 
stepped back and loitered at the doorway. 

The face of the king seemed to grow sharp. 
But he looked neither to right nor to left, and 
presently he resumed talking to the Jivero. As 
Curac repeated, the captive stared. His heavy 
visage began to brighten. He answered quickly 
—almost eagerly. As the conversation went on, 
he actually grinned. At length he sprang up, 
vehemently repeating something, and laughing 
aloud. 

The Spaniard’s fierce expression relaxed. He 
spoke once more, in a warning tone. The Jivero 
responded earnestly. With a wave of the hand 
Jose signified that the session was ended, and 
the savage turned doorward. Closely guarded, 
but unbound, he walked out, head in the air and 
confidence in his strut. 

And as he went, Nune, who understood what 
had just been said, looked after him with sudden 
dismay. 

With his exit, the house was deserted by all 
except the Spaniard, the Americans, the girl, 
and the Sumatara who had last come in, and 
who still lingered at the door. Jose rose and 
faced the others, squarely and steadily eying 
each in turn. His harshness was gone, but he 
was very grave. 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 221 


“Senores,” he said, formally, “it is time that 
we reached a better understanding. There has 
come between us a feeling which must not con¬ 
tinue. Perhaps I am at fault. Perhaps not. 
There are certain things to be said on both sides. 
Perhaps you would like first to say what is in 
your minds. I listen.” 

McKay instantly accepted the opening. 

“Quite right,” he clipped. “The sooner we 
settle this thing, the better. We’re not satisfied 
with the way you’re handling matters. We’ve 
been leaving things in your hands because we 
used to be partners, and we expected to be on 
an equal footing this time. It seems to be other¬ 
wise. You’re running things with a high hand 
and keeping us in the dark. You’re virtually 
assuming the role of boss. We’ve had enough 
of it. 

“We’re indebted to you in many ways, and 
we’re duly grateful. But we’re not subordinates 
of yours. We’re either your partners in finding 
Dave, or we’re not. If we are, we’re going to 
know your plans from now on. If we’re not, 
we’ll cut loose from your outfit and go it alone. 
That’s all.” 

“Attaboy, Cap!” approved Tim. “Jest what 
I was thinkin’, meself.” 

Jose bowed slightly, ignoring Tim. 

“You have spoken plainly, as is always your 
way,” he said. “And perhaps I am to blame. 
But do not think I have wished to be boss over 


222 THE KING OF NO MAN'S LAND 


you. Perhaps I have grown too much accus¬ 
tomed to directing affairs and have seemed to 
slight you. Yet until now you have not ques¬ 
tioned the wisdom of my actions. You are 
angered. I fooled you to-day and made you 
miss a fight. But you will remember that I too 
missed that fight and stayed with you. I do not 
often stay behind my men. 

“It was a joke of mine, but there was reason 
behind the joke. It was ill taken, and I am 
sorry. But it is past. I shall now do what I was 
intending, before we came here, to do at this 
time—to make things clear. I only wished to 
make sure of success in what 1 intended to do 
here. Then I would speak. 

“You have wondered how I was to reach 
Senor Dave. I had no man to guide me to him. 
I came here to get such a guide. I have him. 
He is that Jivero who has just gone out. He is 
the wizard of this place, and knows how to reach 
the Huambizas who have lately been raiding so 
fiercely. He will lead us. I have promised him 
his life and freedom if he leads us right; death, 
if he does not. Since the Huambizas are his 
enemies, he is more than glad to do it. 

“That was my object in attacking this place— 
to kill all but a few and to pick from those few a 
guide. I ordered that the wizard be caught if 
possible, because the wizard among these people 
is a fighter and goes on the raids, so that he 
knows all that can be known; also, he has more 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 223 

brains than anyone else. It was done as I or¬ 
dered, and we now have our man. You know 
as well as I how important it is to have such a 
man. If I had not played a joke on you and 
held you back, we should not have him now. 
Why? Because you could not approach this 
place so quietly as to avoid giving warning; no 
white man can; and this wizard would not have 
been taken alive if not caught by surprise. So 
my joke was not so childish. 

“As for my next plans, they are simple: to 
continue up the Yana Yacu; cross the divide 
through a low pass; go down a stream which 
almost meets the Yana Yacu, but flows west in¬ 
stead of east; and so reach the Morona. We 
shall lose no time. So, Senor Tim, it will not 
be necessary for you and Nune to steal away 
to-night.” 

The concluding words came so unexpectedly 
that Tim stood petrified. McKay and Knowl- 
ton wheeled and stared at him, saw his dazed 
expression, and turned frowning faces to Jose. 

“What do you mean by that?” snapped Mc¬ 
Kay. 

“Ask Tim. Senor Tim, there are always two 
sides to a hut—the inside and the outside. 
What is said inside can be heard by good ears 
outside, unless spoken very low.” 

Then Tim understood. He reddened furi¬ 
ously. 

“So ye sicked a spy on us, hey? This here 


224 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

guy in the door that come and spilled the beans 
in yer ear jest now was listenin’ over yonder, 
hey? Wal, lemme tell ye I don’t give—” 

“Wrong!” Jose cut in. “I did not even know 
you were out of this house. But orders were 
given long ago that this girl must be watched 
at all times, day and night; and my orders are 
obeyed. My men—my ‘lousy Indians’, Senor 
Tim—are faithful to me at all times. I have 
found few white men of whom I could say the 
same. Indeed, I do not know that I have found 
any.” 

Abruptly he turned away. Slowly he walked 
toward the other end of the house and stood 
there, looking at the ground. There was a hurt 
tone to his last words, a sudden loneliness in his 
manner, a weary droop to his shoulders, that 
stopped Tim’s mouth as if an invisible hand had 
clapped over it. McKay and Knowlton, too, 
lost their angry flush and looked queerly at Tim, 
then at the dejected figure of Nune. There was 
a silence. 

With the same weary movements, Jose came 
back again, looking now at the little head of 
Montez. Gently he picked it up. 

“Here was one man who died faithful,” he 
mused. “Faithful to his country and his com¬ 
mander, though overbold. It seems that he for¬ 
sook the river and came up the Yana Yacu, prob¬ 
ably thinking to reach the Morona sooner in 
that way. He met Jiveros. Four of them he 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 225 

killed before the rest could finish him. He was 
a man.” 

Tim found his voice. He spoke doggedly. 

“Yeah. A reg’lar guy. About this thing over 
yonder, now, listen here. I ain’t makin’ no ex¬ 
cuses to nobody. But if yer spy said me and her 
was fixin’ to beat it—jest the two of us—he’s 
a liar. The idea was to put it up to Cap and 
Looey and see how they felt about cuttin’ loose 
and goin’ on our own. Now I don’t have to ask 
’em. That’s all—excep’ this much: Any guy 
that tries to make it hot for Noony for talkin’ 
to me about it, I’ll blow his block off. And 
that’s that!” 

Jose shrugged, glancing with a mirthless smile 
at Nune. 

“I do not blame her,” he denied. “It is only 
natural. And it seems that your capitan and 
teniente had the same idea in mind without her 
suggesting it. Bien. Do we understand one 
another now, and shall we continue as partners? 
Or do you who have been my comrades wish to 
go your own way?” 

The three looked searchingly at one another* 
McKay voiced the verdict. 

“As partners—we’ll stick.” 

“Bueno!” A quick smile lit up the somber 
face. “It would grieve me much if a Huam- 
biza girl should carry away my three last part¬ 
ners as the Huambizas have taken away the man 
who once was partner to all four of us—Senor 


226 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


Dare. Let no more be said. Now we shall 
make a fitting grave for another white man. 
Come.” 

At a sign from him, the loitering Sumatara 
vanished through the doorway. Silently the five 
filed out, Tim giving the girl a reassuring pat on 
one shapely shoulder, but evoking no smile in 
response. She who had so recently hovered on 
the bright verge of hope now looked into the 
black waters of despair, for she knew quite well 
what use would be made of the Jivero captive; 
she had heard his fervent promises to lead the 
way and help to kill the Huambizas of Rana. 
In her sudden despondency her former stanch 
faith in the aid of Piatzo became a broken reed. 
Her role of priestess had slipped rapidly from 
her in her recent new environment, and now she 
was only a heartsick girl. 

Machete men, waiting near, entered the 
house and fell swiftly to work. With blades 
and hands they bored in the earth floor a deep 
hole. Then they refilled it, packed the earth 
hard, and came out. Of Lieutenant Manuel 
Montez no trace now remained above ground. 

Then other men, in an endless chain, bore the 
Jivero bodies inside and stacked them like wood. 
When that was done, great heaps of thatch torn 
from other houses were piled around the walls, 
and on this in turn dry logs and chunks were 
built up. Soon a hissing, crackling pyre flamed 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND *27 

high, and a tower of black smoke ascended and 
mushroomed out in the upper breezes. 

“Roast, you demonios!” was the valedictory 
of Jose. “Roast here to-day and burn forever 
in the place where your father, El Diablo, has 
welcomed you back home. And you, Manuel 
mio, laugh! Laugh loud and long, while above 
you the chief of this tribe and his men turn to 
ashes upon your grave. While white men walk 
this land the murder of a white man shall not 
go unavenged. And, though we white men may 
not always agree, we must stand together wntil 
death—and afterward.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE BIRD OF EVIL OMEN 

I N the same house where Nune and Tim had 
entered into tentative conspiracy that after¬ 
noon, she and her four companions slept. 

The doorway was open, and the moon alter¬ 
nately shone brilliantly and vanished behind 
drifting clouds. To all appearances it was an 
ideal time for such a stealthy departure as Nune 
had suggested. Yet things were not as they 
seemed; for outside, squatting against the wall 
on either side of the door, wide-awake sentries 
kept vigil. She knew this; knew, too, that the 
three Americans were once more at peace with 
her captor and would not now go from him. So, 
stoically awaiting some future opportunity for 
escape, she had given herself to tranquil slum¬ 
ber. 

The vigilance of the night guards was not 
confined to the house of the king. Among the 
other habitations, too, motionless sentries kept 
watch, lurking in the shadows of the low eaves, 
resting easily, yet alert to every sound or move¬ 
ment in the settlement. The Jivero wizard, ly¬ 
ing among a score of sleeping Sumataras, also 
228 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 229 

had a couple of personal jailers whose eyes 
never closed and whose ready machetes were an 
effectual discouragement to any attempt at de¬ 
parture. The other two male prisoners had 
mysteriously disappeared as soon as it was 
known that Jose did not need them—the dis¬ 
appearance being made permanent by a couple 
of Sumatara spearmen and by the funeral pyre. 
As for the Jivero women and children, they 
were to be left free when the White Ones moved 
on westward, since the army could not encumber 
itself with them; but they now were being 
guarded on general principles. 

The fire at the central house now had done 
its work and burned itself out. Within the 
clearing all was quiet; spying eyes would have 
seen only a village apparently buried in slumber. 
And when at length spying eyes did rise above 
the palisade, that was all they did see. 

The dusky, long-haired head in which those 
slant orbs were set hung just above the top of 
the wall at the rear, the body beneath it dang¬ 
ling from a length of twisted vines which it had 
deftly looped over the peak of a stake. That 
head remained motionless for minutes, scanning 
the houses within, listening to the muffled snores 
stealing from them. From the point where it 
poised, the destruction of the chief’s house was 
not noticeable, as other roofs were in the way. 

Reassured, and tiring from the strain of 
hanging by the hands, the apparition drew itself 


230 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

up and scrambled over. It landed with a slight 
thump of bare heels and a clatter of bow and 
arrows slung down its back. Warily it glanced 
around. Then it stole toward the space where 
the chief’s house should be. The moon, flashing 
out more brightly as a thin cloud passed off, 
showed the newcomer to be a gaunt Jivero 
youth, who limped as he advanced. Around one 
calf was wrapped a bungling bandage—evidently 
his breech clout, as he was stark naked. 

At the impact of his fall hidden guards had 
tensed. In the black shadows under the eaves 
wolfish eyes turned on the limping figure. After 
a few steps he seemed to sense the menace. He 
slowed, reaching up to unsling his bow. 

With the dazing speed of a pouncing jaguar 
a sinewy Sumatara sped at him. A hoarse croak 
burst from the invader. Before he could as¬ 
sume the offensive he was knocked sprawling. 
The captor fell hard on him, crushing him 
down. 

Other sentries leaped from the shadows and 
swept the top of the palisade with their eyes. 
No other head showed. The intruder had come 
alone, and from afar. His weakness, his thin¬ 
ness, and his wound indicated misfortune and a 
difficult traverse. 

In the hands of any other White One his end 
would have been swift; indeed, he would have 
been dead when he struck the ground. But it 
happened that his captor was that sargento who 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 231 

bad caught the wizard and earned the praise of 
the king. Shrewdly the warrior saw here a 
chance to distinguish himself further—to dis¬ 
play his prowess again to his ruler. Perhaps 
this new prisoner might be useful to King Jose. 
At any rate, it would do no harm to find out —' 
and to record another point to his own credit. 
Wherefore the stunned youth found himself 
yanked to his feet, roughly disarmed, and 
hustled to the house where slept the commander- 
in-chief. 

Jose awoke to find one of his sentries beside 
him, diffidently explaining that a new prisoner 
waited without. He arose at once and glided 
outside. There stood the dazed captive, help¬ 
less in the iron grip of the sargento, who stood 
with face proudly lifted so that the moonlight 
would make plain his own identity. 

Keenly the Spaniard surveyed both, missing 
no detail. A slight smile passed over his face, 
but he spoke gruffly. 

“Do you who caught the strong wizard now 
wake your king to show him this miserable 
thing?” he demanded. “How came it here? 
Why did you not squash it like a bug?” 

“It came over the wall, and I did squash it,” 
was the somewhat sheepish answer. “But then 
I thought it might know things useful to my 
king. So I let it live and brought it here. Shall 
I kill it?” 




232 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

Jose chuckled, pulled his mustache, and gave 
the sargento another look. 

“You have a head and you think with it,” he 
complimented. “Some day you may become a 
capitan.” Then, eying the captive: “No. Let 
him live until day. Give him food. Put him in 
the house with the wizard. And put—Hm! 
Let me see.” Turning, he surveyed the sentries 
beside his door. “Hatun! Here!” 

An intelligent-looking warrior stepped for¬ 
ward. 

“Hatun, you understand the language of 
these people. Go now to the house where lies 
the wizard. Awake some man there and send 
him elsewhere to sleep. Take his place. Lie 
still and seem to sleep—but keep awake. Hear 
whatever is said between the wizard and this 
new man. In the morning tell me of their talk. 
Go now.” 

Hatun swung away. Jose stood several min¬ 
utes, saying nothing, giving Hatun time enough 
to rout out some sleeper and substitute himself. 
Then he motioned to the sargento. The latter, 
walking on air because of his success, but not 
relaxing his merciless grip on the youth, went 
at once. His captive went dumbly, completely 
bewildered both by finding enemies where he 
had expected friends and by the fact that those 
enemies were not slaying him. 

With a yawn, Jose turned lazily back toward 
his bed. In the doorway he stopped suddenly, 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 233 

a scowl darkening his face. The sentries, too, 
looked somberly out at the jungle beyond., 
From it had drifted a dread sound. 

Far out, faintly heard, but none the less dis¬ 
mal, a creature of evil omen was wailing under 
the moon. It was the alma perdida—the “lost 
soul”—whose weird cries spell calamity: a bird, 
seldom heard and almost never seen, which, 
according to the legend of the jungle men, 
learned its harrowing plaint from a child lost 
and perishing in the wilderness. Again and 
again it sounded; and now it came more plainly, 
as if dire doom were creeping closer and closer 
to the army of the White Ones. At length it 
died and was heard no more. 

Not until then did Jose move onward to his 
couch. He said nothing to his sentries. Nor 
did they speak to one another. They squatted 
motionless, as before, fixedly regarding the 
black forest whence the sound had come. And 
within, where his partners and Nune slept on 
undisturbed, Jose lay staring up at the shadowy, 
roof, troubled by coincidence and memory. Co¬ 
incidence had brought that foreboding cry hard 
on the arrival of that emaciated Jivero; and, 
for no apparent reason, memory jabbed him 
with the vision of his wives and children weakly 
guarded in their distant stronghold. The un¬ 
easiness which had troubled him before his 
departure returned tenfold. And also there 
arose before him in the shadows the little leer- 


234 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

ing head of Montez, and again he heard his own 
words: “So end ambitions in this land of 
devils.” 

For a long time he lay there before drowsi¬ 
ness again stole over him. When he slept, the 
frown still stayed on his face. 

The moon crept downward and vanished. 
Guards were changed. The dank chill of late 
night gradually penetrated to the marrow of the 
new watchers, and they arose and moved about 
in short patrols. Beyond the wall roared 
hungry tigres, bold now that the light was gone, 
but baffled by the stockade. Down at the creek 
frogs hammered in rapid-fire chorus, and some¬ 
where near at hand a tree-toad grumbled in bass 
tones like a lunatic voicing senseless gibberish. 
At length the gloom paled; black blots began to 
take on shape and form; the voices of the jag¬ 
uars died out, and a new wave of discordant 
noise began to roll from the trees. Day was at 
hand, and the birds and animals of the daytime 
were hurling their waking clamor into the air. 
And inside the chonta walls men and women 
opened their eyes, stretched, and arose. 

“Mornin\ kink!” saluted Tim, reaching for 
his cigarette-makings. “We’re still here, Noony 
and all. And this here is a new day—in more 
ways than one. What’s the layout for this 
lovely mornin’?” 

His tone was as jovial as if no rancor had 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 235 

ever arisen, and it was evident that bygones 
were bygones. 

“My first intention is to smoke a cigarrillo,” 
smiled Jose, producing his home-grown tobacco. 
“Then to eat. Next to put up a good cross over 
the spot where Montez lies. And then to move 
out westward. Is that satisfactory to all?” 

“Absolutely,” agreed Knowlton. “Especially 
the eats and the moving. Hello! Who’s this 
chap? Wants to see you, I guess, Jose.” 

At the doorway stood Hatun. His heavy eyes 
showed that he had been faithful to his trust 
and lain sleepless all night. 

“Ah yes. I was forgetting. A visitor 
dropped in last night—a Jivero who seemed to 
have come far. I honored my guest by allow¬ 
ing him to rest with the wizard, and set this 
man to hear anything which might be said 
between them. Probably it is not worth listen¬ 
ing to, but I shall hear it now.” He beckoned 
to Hatun. 

“M-hm! Well, I’m going to wash my frowsy 
face. If there’s any new scandal in Jivero 
society, let me in on it when I get back. 
Coming, Rod?” 

He strode away toward the creek, McKay 
following. Hatun entered, reported that the 
pair of prisoners had talked in the night, and 
proceeded to give an unemotional resume of 
their conversation. Tim and Nune presently 


236 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

lounged out. Jose stood lazily smoking and 
patiently listening. 

The night walker, it seemed, had come from 
a Jivero settlement some days distant at the 
southwest. It had been raided by Huambizas, 
and, so far as the youth knew, he was the only 
male of his tribe to escape. He had been 
wounded, but managed to evade pursuers by 
swimming a creek and climbing a tree, where he 
remained concealed until the raiders were gone. 
With great difficulty he had come to this place 
to attach himself to the Yana Yacu tribe. Ar¬ 
riving at night, he had intended to wait outside 
the chief’s house until morning, but found him¬ 
self caught by the dreaded White Ones of the 
east. 

Having thus made clear his reason for com¬ 
ing, the youth had asked the wizard how it 
came that .the White Ones held the place, and 
had received a fairly truthful answer. Then 
the wizard, anxious to save his face before even 
this wretched representative of his nation, had 
explained his own captivity by declaring that his 
magic had made the enemy unable to kill him, 
and that now he remained only because he was 
thinking a spell on the White Ones by which 
they would presently be destroyed. 

Hatun paused. Jose, who had heard with 
languid interest, nodded and half turned away. 
But Hatun had not yet done; there had been 
more talk, in which the wizard had extracted 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 237 

from the newcomer all possible information 
about the Huambiza raid, and this the sleepy 
spy now recited. As he went on, his king began 
to grow tense. 

He swung back to face the narrator. His 
eyes burned into those of Hatun. The half- 
smoked bark roll dropped from his fingers. 
When the tale ended he stood breathing hard 
and poised as if about to spring. 

“Dios mio !” he muttered. “That cursed bird 
of the night spoke truth! Alma perdida? We 
are all lost souls if—” 

Outside sounded the approaching feet of his 
partners returning from the creek. Knowlton 
laughed at some jest, and Tim’s unmusical voice 
broke out in a ditty: 

“The Sixty-ninth went over the top, 
Pa-a-arley-voo! 

The Sixty-ninth went over the top, 
Pa-a-arley-voo! 

The Sixty- 

“Huh! Whazzamatter, Hozy? Got a 
cramp or somethin’?” 

They were entering. Jose turned to them a 
face startling in its gray pallor. 

“Si—I have worse than that!” he rasped 
through his teeth. “Listen! Days ago the 
Huambizas attacked a Jivero place—killed all 
its men—left the women behind—came east! 
One boy escaped. He says the Huambiza force 
was the greatest ever seen. It is led by a black- 


238 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

bearded savage who seems a white man and 
who fights like a demonio. He and his head¬ 
hunters are killing all men. They command the 
women to await their return or be killed when-* 
ever caught elsewhere. And they are striking 
toward my own country. Si, they may be 
already in it! 

“While we have been on this Yana Yacu that 
force has passed us somewhere in the forest. 
While we have sought a way to reach David 
Rand and save him, David Rand sweeps down 
on my helpless ones with an army of the fiercest 
murderers in the world! Sangre de Cristo! 
May his body rot apart while still he lives! 
May his bloody soul burn forever!” 

His strident voice rose to a yell, and his wan 
face blackened with passion. 

“Cripes!” breathed Tim. “Dave—ol’ good- 
feller Dave—goin’ on the war path ag’inst 
Hozy’s women and kids! ’Tain’t possible!” 

McKay stepped forward, lifted his ammuni¬ 
tion belt from his couch, and buckled it on. 

“I take it that we’ll move,” he commented. 

“Si! We move now! We move east!” 

Striking the quiet Hatun aside, Jose shot 
through the doorway. And as Knowlton and 
Tim slid into their harnesses and grabbed their 
rifles, the voice of the king of the White Ones 
tore across the clearing like the scream of a 
maddened puma. 

“Aillu! Curac!” 


CHAPTER XX 


RETREAT 

O NCE more the village of the Jiveros was 
under control of its own people. The 
devastating storm of lead and steel which yes¬ 
terday had overwhelmed it now had swept 
away, leaving behind it a brooding silence and 
a vast emptiness. 

Not that it was actually empty. Among its 
huts moved human figures, passing to and fro 
and round about; but they moved in a lost, aim¬ 
less fashion, as if dazed and unseeing. They 
were the women of the place, freed for the first 
time in their lives from male dominance, and 
utterly at a loss as to what to do with their sud¬ 
den liberty. Of all the men who on the previ¬ 
ous morning had been their mates and masters 
only one remained—the wizard. And he was 
no longer the master of anyone—even of him¬ 
self. 

His impotence was due directly to the fact 
that Curac and Aillu were gentlemen of fixed 
ideas and ruthless efficiency. On receiving their 
king's urgent orders to embark their men in¬ 
stantly for a return eastward, they had paused 
long enough to inquire, “Do we take with us 
239 


240 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

the Jivero men?” To which Jose, seething with 
rage and haste, had snapped: “To the devil 
with them!” It pleased those implacable war¬ 
riors to interpret this as a command and to put 
it forthwith into execution. So the wizard and 
the refugee now lay side by side in the house 
where they had spent the night, gazing sight* 
lessly at the roof and speaking not at all. 

So far as the wounded youth was concerned, 
the sudden drop into oblivion undoubtedly was 
a stroke of mercy. His untended injury was 
so gangrenous that not even the wizard could 
have saved him. And as for the wizard him¬ 
self, the only good Jivero wizard is a dead 
wizard. 

To this lifeless pair of men the women 
drifted in groups, standing and staring in dull 
apathy. Then they drifted away, to congregate 
at the pile of ashes into which all the rest of 
the men had vanished and under which the deep- 
buried head of their last victim still grinned in 
the fire-baked clay. Whenever some woman 
should take the initiative, the wizard and his 
companion would be carried into the forest and 
left to the mercies of the tiger-footed Chaqui- 
cuna, and thus would disappear the last fighter 
of the tribe. Soon their bones would be obliter¬ 
ated by the jungle debris as permanently as the 
last relic of Montez had been swallowed up by 
the earth. And when the winds and the rains 
should disintegrate the ash heap, no marker 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 241 

would be left to show where Montez lay. 
There had been no time to erect his memorial 
cross. When every energy is needed for the 
benefit of the living, the dead must shift for 
themselves. 

Beyond the palisade remained no trace of the 
conquerors except trampled tracks. No canoes, 
of either Sumatara or Jivero make, lay at the 
shore. On the gloomy creek itself not even a 
ripple told of the coming and going of the army. 
Its mouth was empty, and the Yana Yacu above 
it was empty. Below it, a narrow wet margin 
above the water line on both shores was all that 
told of the passage of a hurrying host whose 
keels and paddles had hurled the water to either 
side. Already that rushing flotilla was well 
downstream, swooping around curve after curve 
and dashing toward the Pastasa as if pursued 
by all the demons of all the jungles of the world. 

They sped in the same formation as before— 
Curac in the lead, followed closely by the king 
and McKay and the girl, trailed hard by the 
paddlers of Knowlton and Tim. Curac now 
was not scouting; he was plying a mighty paddle 
and setting the pace, goaded now and then by 
a harsh bark from Jose. No precautions were 
taken against the chance that some enemy might 
have stolen into the Yana Yacu behind them. 
If such should be the case, the flying column 
would ram head on into the foe, smash it with 


242 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

furious attack, and dash on. The human water 
snake now was mad for speed. 

And yet, their king had not told them why 
they should drive at such a pace. He had not 
even hinted at the reason why they were taking 
the back track. His only commands to Curac 
and Aillu had been to rush for the Pastasa. 
But, in that mysterious way in which knowledge 
creeps through a fighting force, the men had 
grasped the truth. Perhaps Hatun had talked. 
Perhaps these warriors, who never before had 
seen their ruler retreat, instinctively felt that a 
black danger was sweeping into their own land. 
At any rate, they knew well enough that their 
enemy now was not in the west but in the east, 
and that they must break paddles, backs, and 
hearts to reach and attack the menace. 

Except for his occasional nags at Curac, Jose 
kept his mouth shut hard. His face was flint, 
his eyes hot coals burning behind slitted lids, 
his hands a pair of talons gripping his rifle as if 
throttling an assailant. McKay, expressionless 
as a wooden idol, sat immobile, figuring on the 
time of their journey. To reach the Jivero 
settlement had taken nearly six days of steady 
going, four of which had been downhill land 
marching and downstream water travel. Now 
they must buck the Pastasa current which had 
aided them, climb the trails which had sloped 
easily downward before them; they would do 
well if they reached the stronghold again in a 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 243 

week and a half. So he calculated, and so his 
partners in the following boat also figured. 
And where were the Huambizas now? Ahead 
or behind? The leering phantom of War alone 
knew, and he was not telling. 

Meanwhile Nune rode in amazed perplexity. 
She had no key to the riddle of this sudden 
frenzied retreat. She had not returned to the 
house at the same moment as Tim and the 
others; else she might have caught a clew from 
the word “Huambizas.” So she knew only that 
some tremendous thing had come about and that 
she was being borne fast away from the western 
land which she had hoped to reach. The only 
solution that occurred to her—and this seemed 
most unlikely—was that these White Ones had 
been stricken with sudden fear and dared not 
go nearer to her people. 

Noon passed without a slackening of speed. 
The paddlers were working at too high a pres¬ 
sure to be aware of hunger. Their faces were 
masks, their bodies machines, their stout hearts 
dynamos driving them with ceaseless power. 
McKay, who had thought of suggesting to Jose 
a brief halt to let the men eat and renew their 
strength, changed his mind. Their endurance 
showed no sign of slackening, and until it should 
do so there would be little sense in pausing. So 
they surged on, and on, and on. 

Sundown drew near. In the minds of the 
idle Americans, who had lunched on tubes of 


244 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

monkey extract while the boats hurtled onward, 
grew astonishment at the toughness of the Su- 
mataras. Those warriors had not eaten break¬ 
fast or lunch; had not paused an instant from 
that killing stroke. Looking back, the observers 
noted that mouths were open, teeth grinning 
fixedly, jaws hanging rigid, sure indications of 
exhaustion and approaching collapse. Yet the 
machinelike drive of the arms and shoulders 
continued unbroken. 

“Jose!” snapped McKay. “You’re killing 
them! Let up!” 

“Soon,” acknowledged Jose, without turning 
his head. 

A few minutes later they shot out of the 
Yana Yacu and were in the Pastasa. 

Jose barked once more at Curac. A hoarse 
grunt floated back. The prow of the pilot boat 
turned slightly downstream, heading toward a 
sandspit on the farther side. The body of the 
water snake followed its head, crawling steadily 
out of the creek in a long line. Pushed by the 
current, it drifted downward while it crossed the 
river, and curved into shore below the point. 
Canoe after canoe berthed snugly beside its pred¬ 
ecessor, forming a row of river beasts resting 
side by side, noses on the sand. And as each 
grounded and abruptly stopped, its men simulta¬ 
neously bowed—and stayed bowed; their glazed 
eyes staring blindly at the bottoms of their 
craft, their lungs heaving like those of creatures 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 245 

utterly spent, their muscles powerless to lift 
them erect. 

The four white men leaped out, guns ready,* 
eyes searching the sand for footprints and the 
trees for lurking foes. The only tracks were 
those of birds and beasts; the only movement in 
the bush that of hastily departing monkeys. 
But the patrol scouted along the whole length 
of the beach before it relaxed and came back at 
a more leisurely gait. Meanwhile the Indians 
had caught their wind and thrown water on 
their heads, and now they were stiffly emerging 
from the canoes. 

With one accord they flocked to the open* 
beach beyond the boats and bathed. Returning 
refreshed, they walked with heads up and backs 
straight, as if ready to resume their grueling 
race at once. But this was only pride and 
Indian bravado. The famished speed with 
which they bolted their meat and masata, and 
their sluggishness afterward, proved that their 
vital forces were burned low. 

The whites fared like the rest, no fires being 
built—indeed, there was nothing to cook. They 
ate paste, drank river water, and were done 
with it. Jose was broodingly taciturn, smiling 
faintly only once. That was when he inter¬ 
cepted a glance by Nune at Tim. 

‘‘If she should ask you to walk with her, 
friend Tim,” he suggested, “it would please me 


246 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

if you did not tell her that the Huam—that her 
people are near.” 

Tim nodded. And when the girl did walk 
away, with an inviting look at him, he followed 
readily enough, baffled her questions for a time, 
and then told her it was believed that some 
Jiveros were near the Pastasa. Which was true 
enough, but did not explain the mad dash to this 
point, where no sign of Jiveros showed. 

The sky was clear and the Indians scented a 
dry night. No shelters were built. At the com¬ 
ing of the dark the White Ones stretched on the 
sand, loosely holding their weapons, and slept 
like the dead. And now the four who had sat 
idle during the day took on the burden of the 
night watch. Jose and McKay, silent and alert, 
patrolled up and down in the gloom until the 
moon rose, then took fixed posts at either end 
of the line. Knowlton and Tim were aroused 
about midnight and watched until daybreak. 
Unbroken peace ruled throughout the night. 
Not even a wandering jaguar came near the 
fireless bivouac. But King Jose had the assur¬ 
ance that his faithful men were protected as 
they deserved. 

At the first streak of dawn and the first note 
of the morning chorus, the White Ones sprang 
awake. Before the sun had fairly hit the west¬ 
ern bank their dugouts were swinging out 
around the point and heading upstream. Cruis¬ 
ing near shore, where the current was weakest, 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 247 

they crawled doggedly upward until the fierce 
heat of afternoon was upon them. Then Curac 
waggled a signaling hand toward the bank and 
his prow turned in that direction. His pad- 
dlers, reaching the shore, arose and swung 
machetes against obstructing bush. Into a 
gloomy canal the boat worked its way. As 
always, the others followed in file. 

The new watercourse was tortuous and 
snaggy, but short. Presently it widened out 
and became a long lagoon, dotted with muddy 
islets densely overgrown, and rank with water 
plants: a slimy, dismal place, fetid and swarm¬ 
ing with mosquitoes. But open channels and 
lack of currents allowed a fairly direct route 
and fast time, and the column drove inland at 
high speed. 

Suddenly, as the boat of Curac swept close to 
the reedy shore of an islet, a hideous form shot 
from nowhere and struck the canoe. With a 
strangled yell its men were hurled overboard. 
The dugout rolled over and over, caught in a 
huge scaly coil. Then, before the paralyzed 
men in the canoe behind it could lift guns, the 
boat and the coil together disappeared in a 
smother of foam. A moment later the canoe 
arose and floated sluggishly, its sides splintered 
as if scraped by a gigantic rasp. 

The monster which had struck it was gone. 
So was one of the crew. 

Curac and the six remaining paddlers swam 


248 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

desperately to the nearest canoes and were 
hauled in. Other boats cruised about in a flurry, 
men jabbing lances into the mucky bottom or 
seeking signs of the vanished victim. Nothing 
was found. 

The empty canoe, though cracked and water¬ 
logged, was still serviceable. So it was bailed 
out with gourds, the paddles and such weapons 
as floated were recovered, and its crew re¬ 
entered it. Their guns, of course, were lost for¬ 
ever. Soon the line was speeding forward 
again. 

“It seems,” said Nune, composedly, “that 
Yacumama now does not favor the White 
Ones.” 

Jose glared and spat curses on Yacumama 
and every other heathen god. The girl looked 
calmly over his head. 

Late in the day, the brigade plowed to a stop 
at the base of a steep hill covered with heavy 
timber. Ever since leaving the river, the course 
had led generally northeast. Jose was obvi¬ 
ously taking a short cut toward his stronghold, 
and this was the end of the water travel. The 
shore where they landed was gravelly and firm, 
and, though no path was visible, the ground 
above would offer passable going, since under¬ 
growth would be scant. 

With a squint at the westering sun, Jose 
gave the order to march forthwith. The canoes 
were hastily tied to whatever came handy, and 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 249 

up the slope clambered the scouts and path- 
makers, machetes ready for action against all 
obstacles. With the unerring instinct of their 
breed, they swung rapidly along through the 
pathless wilderness above, dexterously laying 
down a trail for the column to follow. An hour 
later all were well inland, on high ground, away 
from the insect plague which had haunted the 
lagoon. There camp was made. 

“To-morrow,” said Jose, “we shall come into 
one of our forest paths. In another day we 
shall reach my home camp. Madre de Dios! 
How long are these days!” 

The three nodded, knowing what was gnaw¬ 
ing at his heart. 

“Any watch to-night?” asked Knowlton, 
stifling a yawn. 

“None. If our enemies are in this land they 
are following some path, and no path is near 
this spot. Sleep early and long, amigos; you 
will need all your strength to-morrow.” 

The promise proved to be no jest. When 
the long file broke out into a faint, narrow path 
the next forenoon it struck into a swift swing 
which taxed the legs and lungs of the northern¬ 
ers to the utmost—a grueling stride which was 
not quite a lope, but which bored up into the 
hills at a terrific pace. When noon came and 
Jose called a halt, Tim welcomed the cessation 
with a groan of relief. The others, though they 
swallowed the groans, were as thankful as he. 


250 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

“Any of your log drums along here, Jose?’* 
asked McKay, when his breathing had become 
normal. “Been listening for one.” 

“Not here, but farther on.” The Spaniard 
cast a look ahead, showing a slightly worried 
expression. “This is a hunter’s track. But it 
joins one of the better paths, and at that place 
is a tunday. I do not know how far ahead my 
first scout is now—” 

A rapid, faint pad of feet interrupted him. 
From the path beyond them loped a runner. 
Before he had reached the side of Jose he was 
jerking out a brief but ominous report. 

Jose half rose from his squat, then slowly 
sank back. For a moment he stared at his com¬ 
rades, his jaw muscles bunching with the strain 
of hard-set teeth. Quietly then he said: 

“The scouts have reached the tunday. There 
they expected to find three signalers. Instead, 
they found the bones of three men—without 
skulls. And there are tracks of many savages 
who have gone up into the hills.” 


CHAPTER XXI 


TWO CHIEFTAINS FALL 

T HROUGH the jungle, on the last lap of 
the long race with their fiercest foes, the 
war dogs of the son of the Conquistadores tore 
like a great pack of voiceless wolves. 

Before their speeding feet ran the plain track 
of the Huambiza horde, and before their minds 
hung the dread vision of their women and chil¬ 
dren helpless in the power of those killers from 
the west. Behind them—far behind now—lay 
their food packs, their paddles, their hammocks, 
everything except their weapons and one small 
meat tube apiece; for all impedimenta had been 
abandoned for the final dash up into the hills. 
Behind them also, doggedly plodding onward 
but hopelessly distanced by the raging warriors, 
came the three North Americans and Nune. 
McKay, keeping his head when battle fury swept 
the entire White Indian force into mad speed, 
had refused to allow the desertion of his own 
and his mates’ equipment—which consisted 
mainly of cartridges: and Nune, unasked and 
unasking, remained with them. Jose was dash¬ 
ing ahead with his men. 

251 


252 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

“Let ’em run,” was McKay’s dictum. “We’ll 
hold our own gait and finish fresh.” 

“Right,” seconded Knowlton. “And when 
we finish we’ll do what we came here for—get 
hold of Dave if we can. That comes first, and 
smearing the Huambizas runs second.” 

“Humph!” grunted Tim. “Ye got things 
hind end to, I’m thinkin’. ’Twill take some 
good stiff gun-work to pry Dave loose from his 
gang. Hope we do git a liT action, any ways. 
If Hozy mops up before we git there—” 

“Don’t worry,” McKay smiled, tight lipped. 
“There’ll be something doing.” 

No more was said. Hunching forward under 
their burdens, glancing to right and left with 
habitual vigilance now that they were alone, 
they marched steadily along the mucky road 
beaten plain by the hosts ahead. And the girl 
trailed them with tireless tread and with never 
a word. 

At length McKay paused, an uplifted hand 
commanding attention. From somewhere to 
the left front, felt rather than heard, came a 
series of vague thudding impacts which quick¬ 
ened into a rapid roll—the air shocks of in¬ 
creasing rifle-fire whose blunt explosions were 
deadened by the intervening jungle. Vague 
though it was, that ragged rhythm beat on the 
senses of the veterans like the nerve-thrilling 
rattle and boom of an old-time drum corps. 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 253 

“Cripes! They’re at it!” erupted Tim. 
“Le’s go!” 

And they went. McKay, who had ordered 
restraint, now broke his own command and 
plunged forward at double time, the others hard 
at his heels. Yet the pace set by the captain 
was not the heart-straining top speed at which 
the White Ones had coursed along; it was a dis¬ 
tance-eating stride which still left something in 
reserve. 

As they advanced, the noise of battle grew 
more heavy and unmistakable; the air-blows 
became thumps blending into a low thunder. At 
length, as the northerners scrambled up a steep 
slope among rocks, the roar of conflict seemed 
to burst upon them as if a door had swung 
open. They had reached the mouth of the 
canon through the cliffs. The fighting was in¬ 
side the mountain bowl, and its tumult was 
muffled by its inner slopes, except here in the 
rocky rift of egress. In a few more paces it 
became deafening, the echoes of shots and yells 
reverberating between the walls with stunning 
force. 

Halfway through, McKay checked. The 
way was blocked by a chaos of bowlders hurled 
from above by the guardians of the gateway. 
A taint in the air told that beneath those stones 
lay crushed Huambizas; told, too, that the dead 
had not lain there many hours—else the reek* 
would have been unbearable. Now there was 


254 THE KING OF NO MAN'S LAND 

no sign of the warders at the top, nor of any 
other living thing along the cleft. Evidently 
the head-hunters had, like a horde of army ants, 
hurled themselves forward over the bodies of 
their slain fellows in an irresistible stream; and 
the first ones to get through had swarmed up 
the inner slope and finished the guards. 

For a moment the four paused in that 
slaughter-pen to catch the breath lost in the last 
climb. Then, as the men of Jose had done 
before them, they worked their way upward, 
pulling themselves over the rubble and forging 
on toward the fight. All the way to the inner 
end they found blood-stained stones, but not in 
such heaps as at the first barrier. It was appar¬ 
ent that the guards, too few to cope with so 
large a force of raiders, had held the invaders 
at first, but then had leaped along the brink in 
a frenzied, futile struggle to keep crushing the 
head of the column. 

Here and there, as they progressed among 
the more thinly scattered blocks, they saw dead 
Huambizas lying as they had fallen under the 
smashing missiles. At each they glanced keenly, 
speaking no word. They were seeking, though 
dreading, a glimpse of the body of their quon¬ 
dam partner, David Rand. They found no sign 
of him. 

Then they were through. Nowhere had they, 
spied a dead White One or a live Huambiza. 
Now they saw at one glance where the surviving 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 255 

Huambizas were—at the central acropolis on 
which were clustered the royal houses of Jose. 
Intervening treetops blocked all view of the 
fight raging there, but at that point rose a haze 
of blue smoke, and from there rolled the infer¬ 
nal noise of combat. The head-hunters had 
penetrated to the heart of Jose’s kingdom. 
Whether they had yet captured it was not clear. 

McKay flung a quick look up and down, 
nodded, and strode down the path. A couple 
of rods below, he turned abruptly aside into a 
branch trail which angled upward again. It 
was the route usually followed by the guards in 
climbing to their posts of vigil. Up this surged 
the captain and his comrades, to halt at the top 
of the cliffs. There, where the watchers of the 
canon had made their last stand, lay their jum¬ 
bled bones, headless and picked bare by vultures. 
But the newcomers bestowed only a fleeting 
glance on this grim debris of the Huambiza 
foray. Their eyes went ranging out across the 
gulf to the focal point of the present melee. 

As if to aid them, a gusty breeze went swoop¬ 
ing across the bowl, shoving the smoke haze 
aside and giving the observers a clear glimpse 
of the central rock. Its top was alive with tiny 
active figures, fighting against enemies down 
below. But whether those enemies were Hu¬ 
ambizas, or Sumataras—whether the White 
Ones still held their eyrie or the head-hunters 
had scaled it and were now holding off the 


256 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

avenging force of Jose—could not be told at 
this distance. The one thing certain was that 
much gun fighting was going on in the enshroud¬ 
ing forest at its base. 

“Looks to me as if the Huambizas were still 
down below,” judged McKay, “and Jose had 
caught them from behind. If he can herd them 
between his men and the rock and keep them 
there, he’s got them. Otherwise it ’ll be a long 
fight. Well, let’s go.” 

With a final look to their guns and a loosen¬ 
ing of pistols and machetes, they started 
downward at a plunging lope. After them, for¬ 
gotten, still trailed Nune—but not the same 
Nune who had gone up the path. Once more 
she had donned her robe, and in her right hand 
was gripped the gold cross of the mad padre. 
At last she had caught the name “Huambizas,” 
which made the furious haste of the past few 
days suddenly clear to her. As suddenly, the 
jungle nymph had been transformed into the 
priestess of Piatzo, and she now was going into 
battle as coolly as the veteran fighters whom she 
followed. 

In long leaps the northerners descended the 
zigzag track, outdistancing the girl. On the, 
lower level they ran ahead without caution, 
following the path by which they had first come 
in, until they passed the stockade wherein the 
Jivero women had been confined. The trampled 
condition of that path showed that both the 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 257 

invaders and the pursuers had traveled it before 
them; and the absence of dead or wounded men 
proved that the Huambizas had all been con¬ 
centrated at the central rock when the Sumatara 
warriors arrived. In their eagerness to storm 
that stronghold and their ignorance of the fact 
that their foes were behind and not before 
them, the savages from the Morona had neg¬ 
lected all precautions against attack from the 
rear. 

Now the gun-fire was dying out and the fiend¬ 
ish yelling of the combatants came more clearly. 
Either the ammunition was running low or the 
opponents had come to the stabbing, throttling, 
rending hand-to-hand stage of the fight. At the 
entrance to a bypath McKay halted again, and 
the three listened to the uproar beyond, gauging 
the strength of the battle by its noise. The 
worst of it seemed to be just ahead. 

“Rod!” yelled Knowlton, flashing a glance 
along the bypath. “Down here! Take ’em on 
the flank. This path curves around—remember 
it? Brings us out among rocks under the cliff— 
good cover.” 

The tall Scot nodded and his lips moved, but 
his words were lost. The nod was enough. 
The blond man and the red one double-timed 
down the narrow way, McKay following. 

As Knowlton said, the detour led around to 
the base of the beleaguered mesa, crossing the 
cleared space, and then entering a rubble of 


258 THE KING OF NO MAN'S LAND 

bowlders. Along its course were several habita¬ 
tions, all of which now were deserted, so far as 
the three runners could observe. It was not 
until they had reached the clearing that they 
sighted any life. Then they found both life and 
death in plenty. 

The space immediately before them, between 
trees and stones, was empty. But only a few 
rods farther away, at the left, was the edge of 
a seething maelstrom of battle. Whatever 
formations might have been held at first—if, 
indeed, there had ever been any—were now 
broken into a weltering chaos of individuals 
fighting with the ferocity of a blood hatred cen¬ 
turies old—a howling, hurtling, heaving mass 
without cohesion or sense, madly slaughtering 
itself. Down on it rained stones and other mis¬ 
siles hurled from the precipitous plateau tower¬ 
ing above. From it rolled a reek of powder 
smoke and fresh blood. Rifle-shots thumped, 
arrows flew, machetes and spear heads glinted 
redly under the westering sun, close-locked an¬ 
tagonists wrestled and tore and fell and were 
trampled into the crimson soil. How far along 
the curving wall that homicidal conflict extended, 
and how the fight was going, the three men 
crouching at the edge of the trees could not 
discern. 

“Out o’ luck!” boomed Tim. “We can’t do 
nothin’! If we open fire we’ll likely kill some 
o’ Hozy’s gang—can’t tell who’s which in that 


THE KING OF NO MAN'S LAND 259 

mess! What’s the word, Cap? Tear into ’em 
or set tight?” 

“Hold your fire.” 

McKay and Knowlton scanned the cliff. The 
portion facing them was blank, the shelf form¬ 
ing the only ascent being farther to the left, 
above the fighting horde. The jumble of big 
bowlders across the clearing, against the preci¬ 
pice, would make almost invulnerable cover and 
enable them to crawl into a commanding 
position. 

“All right,” decided McKay. “Rush those 
rocks!” 

They broke cover and rushed. For all the 
attention they received, they might as well have 
walked. The mind of every warring Indian was 
concentrated on his hereditary foes, and the 
arrival of a puny handful of white men meant 
less than nothing even if seen. So the three 
reached the rocks unnoticed, vanished among 
them, and, finding a faint path leading upward, 
worked rapidly higher and nearer to the center 
of conflict. 

Soon they were well above the horde and 
peering down from a small canon between 
jagged blocks of stone. Viewed from this point 
of vantage, the confusion was a trifle less bewil¬ 
dering. Though the tide of battle constantly 
ebbed and flowed, it became evident that a force 
of brown-skinned, long-haired warriors fought 
with their backs to the cliff, facing a seething 


260 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


mob of men much lighter of hue and shorter of 
hair. In the main, the Huambizas were quite 
well bunched, while the attacking White Ones 
were eddying back and forth, being hurled out¬ 
ward repeatedly but ever boring in with un¬ 
diminished fury. 

“By cripes! them Warm Beezers ain’t col¬ 
lectin’ no heads from Hozy yet!” bellowed Tim. 
“Got all they can do to hang on to their own. 
See Hozy or Dave anywheres? I can’t make 
out nothin’ but Injuns.” 

A long, keen gaze at the writhing mass ended 
in headshakes. In that welter no individual 
could be distinguished. But McKay saw some¬ 
thing else which held him quiet a moment, then 
decided him as to the tactics of his three-man 
attack. 

“Look over yonder!” he yelled. “That point 
of rocks! White Ones are trying to cut through 
and roll up the Huambiza flank. Fire into the 
Huambizas there!” 

“That’s the dope,” approved Knowlton. He 
swung his pack to a niche where he could readily 
draw on his reserve ammunition. McKay and 
Tim did likewise. A moment later they were 
lying prone on a hot slab and aligning their 
sights on the brown men at the point designated 
by McKay. 

Firing at will, with the rapid precision of 
trained shots, they dropped head-hunters in 
swift succession. The Huambizas opposing the 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 261 


Sumatara wedge began to crumple up, and the 
White Ones bored deeper. Reloading from 
their web belts, the sharpshooters poured 
another blast of concentrated fire into the same 
spot, and a veritable path opened before the 
light-skinned battlers. They surged into it 
with the speed of flood waters sweeping into a 
newly breached channel. Before the divided 
mass of head-hunters could close and crush 
them, the deadly gunfire from above was widen¬ 
ing the gap, and more exultant Sumataras were 
pouring in, penetrating farther cliffward by their 
own vindictive prowess. When the belts of the 
Americans were empty, a lance-like lane of 
White Ones had pierced deep into the Huam- 
biza horde and the left flank of the savages was 
virtually surrounded. 

Arrows began to rattle on the stones near by. 
A slug fired from some ancient gun flattened 
itself against a bowlder, a yard to one side. 
The nearest Huambizas had at last located the 
spot whence poured the devastating smokeless 
rifle-fire, and were sending up a few desperate 
shots to silence it. Tim leaned out, shook a fist, 
thumbed his nose, and hastily withdrew, just in 
time to dodge an accurately driven arrow. 
Chuckling, he crawled back to his pack and 
began digging up fresh cartridges. 

Knowlton and McKay also drew back a little, 
laying down their hot weapons and resting their 
eyes, which ached from the strain of squinting 


262 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


against the slanting sun. Tim, dumping his flat 
boxes of .30’s from his haversack, took time to 
unstrap those of his companions for the next 
need. So several minutes passed before the 
three slid forward again with full guns and open 
cartridge cases. And then they did not resume 
firing. 

In those few minutes much had taken place. 
The White Ones had made good their thrust 
into the lane opened by the white men’s guns 
and were fighting like fiends. The Huambiza 
left flank, battling three ways, was writhing like 
a nest of snakes, squirming about within itself 
in abortive advances and retreats. Now a 
wedge seemed to be forming at the farther side 
and driving toward the rocks where the Ameri¬ 
cans lurked. Rapidly it gathered strength and 
came on with increasing speed—a spear head of 
Huambiza warriors, thrusting through the 
tangled ranks of their own fellows. As it came 
on, the hidden gunmen uttered a sudden cry. 
In that driving wedge they had glimpsed a white 
man’s face, black bearded and black haired. 

“Dave!” barked McKay. 

“Dave!” echoed Knowlton. “It’s old Dave!” 

“Yeah! It’s him,” boomed Tim. “Him and 
his hellions, cornin’ right to us—nope, they’re 
headin’ for the end over yonder. Cripes! 
They got a guy there—draggin’ him out o’ the 
mess—looks like another white man! Yee-ay, 
Dave! Look up here! Da-a-ave!” 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 263 

His yell went unheard. The white man 
plunged on with his savage satellites, dragging 
the form which Tim had spied. They shoved 
other Huambizas aside with ruthless roughness, 
intent on their own purpose. 

“Get down the path!” snapped McKay. 
“We’ll grab him— Hold on! Wait!” 

The flying wedge had deflected toward them. 
It crushed its way through to the rocks. Not 
more than fifty feet from McKay and Knowlton 
and Tim, and in plain sight, it stopped among 
bowlders. Yet none of the grisly warriors 
looked up at the Americans or seemed aware of 
their existence. 

The white commander of the head-hunters— 
muscular, streaked with dirt and sweat and 
blood, ferocious as any of his savage allies— 
turned to his men with a harsh grunt. The pair 
following him loosed their holds on the limp 
form they had been hauling through the press. 
It fell, rolled over on a slanting stone, and lay 
motionless, face upward. 

Bleeding from several wounds, senseless and 
perhaps lifeless, Jose Martinez, king of the 
White Ones, lay there in the power of David 
Rand, leader of the Huambizas. 

Rand spoke, his rough voice carrying to the 
tense watchers above. 

“Wake up, you damned swine! Look alive 
and talk!” 

With the words he kicked the prostrate man 


264 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

with a leathery bare heel. Jose made no 
answer. He could make none. 

“Talk, you rotter! Tell what you did 
with—” 

“Rana!” 

The clear call broke from the bowlders above 
him. Out from those rocks, leaping downward 
with agile grace, came Nune. Huambiza faces 
lifted, heavy Huambiza jaws dropped, blood¬ 
shot Huambiza eyes stared at the slim figure 
descending with gold cross blazing in the sun. 
Rand whirled and stood as if petrified. A few 
seconds more, and the girl stood before him, 
flushing, laughing happily, searching his fierce 
visage for the welcoming smile of which she 
had dreamed for weary weeks. Amid the hid¬ 
eous barbarity of jungle war, the priestess of 
Piatzo had at last returned to the man she 
loved. 

And then McKay, expert rifleman in the 
United States army and dead shot in any part 
of the world, slid his rifle forward. Coolly he 
drew a bead on his old-time partner. The gun¬ 
shot cracked wickedly among the rocks. 

Rand fell as if smitten by a thunderbolt. 


CHAPTER XXII 


AT BAY 

C OME on! Get ’em!” rasped McKay. 

While his astounded comrades stared 
at him, he sprang up, leaped back to the path, 
and bounded down it. Automatically they 
jumped up and dashed after him. Almost to¬ 
gether, the three swerved sharp to the right, 
leaped from rock to rock, and burst into view 
of the gaping Huambizas. Only a few feet 
below them, Rand lay across the body of Jose. 

“Tim! Hold ’em!” snapped the captain, 
passing his pistol to the Irishman. “Come on, 
Merry! Make it fast!” 

Tim, gripping the proffered side-arm, grunted 
comprehension and drew his own. Dropping 
his rifle, M^cKay yanked his machete free and 
sprang down, landing within arm s length of the 
head-hunters and close beside the unconscious 
white rivals. The instant his feet struck he 
swung the blade sidewise, slashing Huambiza 
throats. 

The impact of Knowlton’s feet sounded be¬ 
side him, followed by the ripping roar of the 
lieutenant’s .45* Huambiza faces, contorted 
with rage, went blank and fell backward with 
265 


266 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


holes in their foreheads. Other head-hunters 
staggered and collapsed, clutching at jugulars 
severed by the Scot’s flying blade. So daring 
and deadly was the suicidal attack of the white 
men that no retaliating thrusts reached them; 
indeed, the savages gave back in momentary 
panic, dodging the red steel and the thundering 
hand-gun. 

“Now! Grab and go!” barked McKay, his 
iron face unchanging. “Tim! Snap into it!” 

With the words he dived at Rand; heaved 
the limp body up on his shoulders, and turned 
to climb. Knowlton seized Jose. Above, Tim 
went into action with both pistols to cover their 
retreat, crashing bullets into head-hunters who 
surged forward the instant the pair stooped. 

Then Nune sprang. Stunned for the moment 
by the fall of Rand, she now flashed into violent 
assault on the man who had downed him. 
Screaming, she leaped like a tigress upon Mc¬ 
Kay, clawing, tearing, yanking at him in blind 
fury. 

The captain, struggling up a rock, staggered 
under her weight and nearly toppled backward. 
Knowlton, just behind and carrying Jose like a 
sack of flour, lunged ahead and butted the tot¬ 
tering man in the back, restoring his balance. 
McKay half turned, dropped his machete, shot 
his right arm around the crazed girl’s neck, 
wrenched her off her feet, and clamped her head 
against his side. Then, still carrying Rand on 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 267 

his broad shoulders and dragging the girl in 
chancery, he fought his way on upward. 

“Make it’*— bang! —“snappy, Cap!” im¬ 
plored Tim, between shots. “I’m”— bang !—* 
“most shot out!” Bang-bang! 

Horrible yells behind the ascending pair em¬ 
phasized the urgency. A thrown spear clattered 
on the rock beside Knowlton. 

Gasping with the strain, slipping and lurching 
on the stones, McKay clambered with desper¬ 
ate speed and incredible strength. Knowlton 
bumped him again and again, helping him on. 
Tim, crouching with eyes blazing and weapons 
flaming, made every bullet score. His last shot 
crashed out as the burdened pair lunged past 
him into better footing. 

“I’ll hold ’em!” he gritted. “Keep goinM” 

Jamming the empty pistols under his belt, he 
sank on one knee and seized his rifle. The 
sharp crack of the .30 and the clatter of the 
breech bolt replaced the barking of the .45’s. 
The foremost of the Huambizas, starting a 
rush the instant they saw the red man drop, 
sprawled, writhed, and stayed down. With 
spears grating ominously on the rocks around 
him, with demoniacal visages swarming below 
him, he squatted and shot as accurately as if 
engaged only in rapid-fire target work on some 
safe rifle range at home. When his own rifle 
was empty he snatched up Knowlton’s and ham¬ 
mered away with hardly a break. 


268 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


Behind him, the others, protected now by the 
rocks from flying missiles, staggered into the 
crooked path and drove their quivering legs to 
a pounding run. Nune, her struggles weaken¬ 
ing, was dragged bumping along in the remorse¬ 
less arm-grip of McKay. When her captor 
loosed his hold—in the covert where lay the 
packs—she fell limp and less than half con¬ 
scious, dizzied and dazed. Beside her dropped 
the body of her Rana, released none too gently 
by the captain, who then reeled against a 
bowlder and drooped like a spent horse. 

“Load—pistol,” he panted. “Get—guns. 
Tim—” He gestured weakly outward, gasp¬ 
ing and half blinded by sweat. 

Knowlton, breathing hard himself, made no 
reply. He fumbled a fresh clip into his pistol 
butt, glanced once at the bloody-headed Rand, 
and turned back to the path. He had no more 
than reached it when Tim plunged into sight, 
running hard and carrying all three rifles. 

“Git shells, Looey!” yelled Tim. “Shot out! 
Them hellions ’ll come over the top now—” 

“Got you,” cut in the blond man, holding up 
the ready pistol. “Hustle up!” 

As the lone rear-guard reached him, Knowl¬ 
ton plucked one of the empty pistols from his 
belt and replaced its spent clip with a fresh one. 
Tim pounded onward with the rifles. Less than 
half a minute passed before his prediction 
proved true. Fierce faces and brown bodies 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 269 

sprang into sight at the bend of the path. The 
vengeful “hellions” were coming. 

But amid that maze of cliff blocks, not many 
could come at once, and the bulk of the Huam- 
biza force was not even trying to come—it was 
fighting for existence against the beleaguering 
Sumataras. Knowlton’s twin pistols flamed, and 
the leaders went down, one heaving a javelin 
even as he fell. A twist to one side barely 
saved the lieutenant, the poisoned head of the 
missile ripping the slack of his shirt at the waist 
line. Shooting as he went, he retreated back¬ 
ward along the path, holding off the attackers 
in front and evading any who might have tried 
to flank him among the stones. By the time he 
was at the entrance to their rockbound sharp¬ 
shooting post, McKay and Tim were ready with 
full guns. 

With grim persistence, but with savage 
stealth and cunning, the head-hunters who had 
determined to exterminate the white men came 
on. They crept now among the rocks, abandon¬ 
ing the path where half a score of their fellows 
had fallen under Knowlton’s fire. McKay, 
scaling a slant bowlder whence he could hastily 
estimate the situation, detected several brown 
figures slinking below. He promptly opened 
fire, swinging his gun from man to man as fast 
as possible, and downing three. The others 
flattened behind cover. Beyond other rocks, 
other heads bobbed up, sinking again as the rifle 


270 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

swung in their direction. The captain guessed 
that at least a score of implacable foes were 
crawling up to them. 

“Back to the edge!” he commanded, sliding 
down. “Best place. Covers us on two sides— 
open end’s too steep to be climbed—got to 
watch the rear and overhead. Move out I” 

Watchful, tense, he stood on guard while the 
other two moved their packs, the rival com¬ 
manders, and the reviving Nune to the extreme 
outer end of their narrow alley. As they lifted 
Rand, Tim took a keen look at the crimsoned 
head and grinned. 

“Creased as neat as a new pair o’ pants,” he 
rejoiced. “Dave ain’t hurt bad—only knocked 
cold. But, my gosh, what shootin’! If Cap 
had wabbled his gun jest a hair—or Dave had 
moved jest then—’twould be ‘Good night, 
DaveyM” 

Two quick shots from McKay’s rifle stopped 
talk and hastened work. But Knowlton, catch¬ 
ing the smoldering gaze of Nune, took time to 
say: 

“Rana lives. He only sleeps. We are still 
his friends.” 

Her tragic face lightened and she drew a 
quick breath. But no gratitude was in the look 
she gave him. Had not these men once said 
that Rana must go away with them? Had they 
not just shot him down ? Friends, indeed! 

To the injuries of Jose they could give only 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 271 

a fleeting inspection, but none seemed fatal. 
Like Rand, he still was unconscious from a 
shock to the head—probably a club blow. A 
nasty-looking hole under his left lower ribs 
might or might not be a mortal wound, and he 
was gashed in several places. In the present exi¬ 
gency he had to lie untended beside Rand in 
the shade of a bowlder. Beside the pair, her 
back to the rock, Nune squatted with an assump¬ 
tion of Indian stoicism. There was nothing she 
could do. 

McKay’s rifle cracked again. Then he came 
sidling in, seeing all in one quick survey. 

“Watch overhead!” he commanded. “Both 
sides. I’ll guard the rear.” 

“Path clear?” asked Knowlton. 

“It is now,” the captain replied with a grim 
smile. “May not be for long. Watch your¬ 
selves.” 

He faced about and crouched. Knowlton 
and Tim turned their eyes upward, awaiting the 
sudden appearance of savage heads on the crests 
of their flanking stones. If the head-hunters 
should come a few at a time they would have a 
fighting chance; but if they should come leaping 
down in a body it would be desperate work. 

Time dragged. From below came the same 
ghastly chorus of hate and death, the same taint 
of freshly spilled blood. Near at hand nothing 
happened. Tim sneaked a look down at the 
melee, turning quickly back with a grim 


272 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

“Oh, boy! Lookit the hash!” he exulted. 
“Looey, them tarriers o’ Hozy’s are moppin’ 
up right! This here left flank is gettin’ chopped 
into meat balls— Umph! Low bridge!” 

His rifle licked upward and spat. A snarling 
shape which had sprung into sight above them 
collapsed, pitched forward, and flopped soggily 
down into the little canon behind McKay. At 
the same moment the captain fired toward the 
path, and another brown form dropped on its 
face. Tim’s ejected shell had hardly tinkled on 
the rocks when he shot again, and a third ap¬ 
parition vanished from the sky line, sliding 
down outside. On Knowlton’s side no heads 
appeared. 

“Got us located,” McKay warned. “Watch 
for a rush now.” 

Tense seconds snailed away. Though Mc¬ 
Kay still watched toward the path, all felt that 
the rush would come from above—a simultane¬ 
ous rise, leap, and drop of savages with down- 
pointed spears, like infantry storming a trench 
with bayonets. With guns cocked and fingers 
on triggers, they awaited the shock of impact. 

The seconds became minutes. Still no new 
assailant showed himself. Then above the riot, 
from below sounded sudden sharp yells near at 
hand—raucous howls of defiance blending with 
screeches of hateful triumph. The waiting men 
braced themselves. But no Huambizas ap¬ 
peared. 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 273 

Blows thudded faintly. Death screams 
shrilled. Somewhere a rock grated, sliding 
under a weight. Then Knowlton’s rifle darted 
to an aim at something above—and poised 
without firing. 

A pair of struggling forms had risen on the 
right-hand bowlder, grappling with murderous 
ferocity. They fell, kicking, biting, choking, 
rolling over and over toward the white men. 
In a sudden scrambling slide they shot headlong 
downward into the crevice, still tearing at each 
other. The head of one crunched on a stone, 
and he went limp. The other, his hold broken, 
clawed about him, then lurched to his feet, glar¬ 
ing dizzily around. He was a warrior of the 
White Ones. The one with the crushed skull 
was a Huambiza. 

A crooked grin quirked over the lacerated 
face of the Sumatara. Hoarsely he panted, 
with a gesture including the surrounding 
bowlders: 

“We come. We kill.” 

As his meaning became plain, the ready 
rifles sank. One by one, other White Ones 
arose on either side, breathing hard and bearing 
fresh stains of fight, peered down at the whites, 
and came dropping in. The daring attack of 
the northerners on the Huambizas and their 
retreat with prisoners, followed by vengeful 
head-hunters, had been seen by some of the 
White Ones below; and those witnesses had 


274 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

forthwith sped around to the path, ascended it, 
and scattered to hunt down the hated west¬ 
erners. Now the head-hunters were dead. 

Down at the base of the rocks, too, the 
Huambizas were virtually annihilated. The 
isolated left flank was now shredded into an 
even worse “hash” than when Tim had last 
looked down—cut to pieces and being extermi¬ 
nated by swarming WhiteiOnes. Farther along 
the cliff, the remaining body of invaders was 
likewise broken up, though not so hopelessly 
trapped; scattered segments had managed to 
fight their way out and were fleeing in disor¬ 
derly rout toward the rock-choked rift by which 
they had entered—the only exit they knew; 
others, hemmed in, were desperately seeking a 
line of escape and not finding it. The infuri¬ 
ated fighters of Jose had at last gained the 
upper hand and were utterly smashing their foe. 

“Wal, I s’pose this ends our liT party,” 
growled Tim. “Somebody always has to come 
buttin’ in jest when we’re goin’ good.” His 
long breath of relief, however, belied his sour 
tone. 

McKay, turning with a slight smile, opened 
his mouth to retort, but shut it with a click of 
teeth. A simultaneous growl broke from the 
White Ones, a cry from Nune, and a sharp 
command from Knowlton. 

“Quit that, you fools!” 

The eyes of Jose and Rand, lying face to face, 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 275 

had opened. Oblivious of all else, the two 
chiefs had glared at each other and then reached 
both hands for the throat. Now, without a 
sound, they were striving to choke each other 
to death. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


THE KING COMES HOME 
HE Sumataras moved forward, glowering 



JL balefully at Rand. But the Americans 
were too quick for them. 

“Alto!” barked McKay, leveling his rifle 
from the hip. The menace of his gun and his 
steely eye halted the warriors. At the same 
moment Tim sprang at Rand and Knowlton at 
Jose. The grapplers were wrenched apart and 
held. 

“Cut it out, Dave!” admonished Tim. 
“What the divil ails ye, anyways? Show some 


sense!” 


Knowlton was voicing much the same senti¬ 
ment to Jose, with the added injunction to avoid 
straining his wounded side. The Spaniard 
snarled and struggled to break free; but, weak¬ 
ened by his injuries, he was easily restrained 
by Knowlton. Quieting, he glanced around, 
sized up his surroundings, saw his men beyond 
McKay, and turned a triumphant gaze on Rand. 

“So, Senor Capitan of the Huambizas,” he 
sneered, “you are the prisoner of the White 
Ones whom you came to destroy, hah? You and 
your brave woman-stealing murderers caught 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 277 

more than you planned, hah? Welcome, rene- 
gado, to my hospitality! You have not yet 
tasted all of it!” 

Rand seemed not to hear him. He lay 
supine, his green eyes wide, his strong jaw hang- 
ing loose, staring in stupefaction at Tim. He 
scowled, blinked, rubbed a hand across his brow, 
and stared again. His gaze turned to Knowl- 
ton’s blond-bearded profile, then to the uncom¬ 
promising back of tall McKay. His lips moved 
twice before he spoke. 

“Tim—and Merry—and Rod!” he marveled. 
“Where’d you drop from?” 

“From the States, ye gorilla!” rumbled Tim. 
“Been thrashin’ all over this here country look¬ 
in’ for ye. Jest caught up with ye to-day—and 
Cap had to nick yer dome to git holt o’ ye, at 
that. How come ye bummin’ round with them 
head-hunter guys? Gone cuckoo again?” 

The green eyes dwelt on his a moment longer. 
Then they veered to Nune, hovering near him. 
A faint smile flickered across his bewhiskered 
mouth. 

“Maybe I have,” he granted. Then, his voice 
turning hard, he demanded in Spanish: “Nune, 
what have they done to you?” 

“She is my slave,” Jose maliciously broke in. 
“And you-” 

“Shut up!” Knowlton snapped, exasperated. 
“Listen to me, Jose Martinez. You’d better 
sing small. Dave’s not your prisoner—he’s 



278 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

ours! Rod got him—not you, or your whole 
outfit! And what’s more, you are Dave’s pris¬ 
oner. He dragged you right through the whole 
head-hunter gang, so helpless that you couldn’t 
do that!” He snapped his fingers. “He could 
have cut you into sausage—but he didn’t. And 
the only reason why you’re here now is because 
Cap clipped Dave with a bullet and carried him 
up these rocks in front of the whole Huambiza 
mob, and I carried you, while Tim held ’em oft" 
alone. These men of yours came along a good 
deal later, while we were taking all comers. 
For all the good your famous army did you, you 
were a dead one half an hour ago. I don’t 
know who knocked you out first, but-” 

“I did it,” taunted Rand. “And I can do it 
again.” 

Jose reddened and started a lunge at him. 
Knowlton forced him back. 

“You shut up too, Dave!” he warned. 
“Either one of you that starts anything more 
will have me to lick. That goes!” 

“Yeah,” seconded Tim. “And if that ain’t 
good enough I’ll take the two o’ ye and crack 
yer cocos together. This here war’s gone bust. 
Let it die.” 

“And one thing more,” Knowlton went on. 
“This scrap has busted up, as Tim says. But 
it might be going on now—and going against 
you, Jose—if we three hadn’t opened up the 
Huambizas with our guns and given your men 



THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 279 

a chance to cut off their left flank and roll ’em 
up. You left us away back in the woods, you 
may remember; but we’ve come in mighty strong 
at the finish, and we’re still good for a lot more 
rough stuff if necessary. Now come off your 
high horse. Let Dave alone. Tell these In¬ 
dians to get back and give us a free hand. 
We’ll get you up on top. You’re about done in.” 

Under this broadside Jose glared, growled, 
but gradually quieted. Suddenly he cackled 
shrilly. 

“Ha-ha-ha— Ouch! Cristo! Is a spear 
head in my bowels? Por Dios, Teniente, you 
have the nerve of the devil! You now will be 
the king and dictate to me, hah? But you speak 
sense—and, no doubt, truth. And I owe my life 
once more to you? It was you who saved me 
years ago in Brazil. Bien. I am too tired to 
walk now, so you shall help me. The Huam- 
bizas are crushed, yes? It is good. Let me 
rise.” 

Helped by Knowlton, he struggled up. Curtly 
he spoke to the Indians, who, though still held 
back by McKay, were eying the Americans omi¬ 
nously. One grunted in reply, and all their 
expressions changed. 

“They will obey your orders—so long as you 
do not try to take this man Rand away,” added 
Jose. “He must be held-” 

His words grew indistinct. He leaned 



280 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

heavily on Knowlton, his knees sagging. When 
the lieutenant laid him down he fainted. 

“All shot,” said Tim. “Better git him to his 
women right away. One of ’em, I mind, is a 
doctor, and a danged good one. How ’bout 
you, Dave? Feelin’ rocky?” 

“Rotten headache,” confessed Rand. “All 
right otherwise. Let go of me.” 

After a searching look, Tim lifted his heavy 
hands, and Rand arose. He stepped to the edge 
and stood a moment, surveying the scene of 
slaughter. Directly beneath him the fighting 
had ended, and he looked down on a battlefield 
strewn with warriors who would war no more. 
To the right remained only a small knot of his 
men, falling fast under the relentless hacking of 
three times their number of White Ones. xAway 
toward the gap sounded the wolfish howling of 
more Sumataras cutting down their routed foes. 
The last brief chapter of his history as a Huam- 
biza commander was rapidly reaching its con¬ 
clusion. 

As he turned back to the others, however, he 
seemed unmoved by the catastrophe terminating 
his recent lurid career. The concentrated gaze 
of his former partners, too, apparently had no 
effect whatever on him. McKay had moved in¬ 
ward and stood bleakly regarding him. Tim’s 
blue stare was half hostile. And Knowlton, now 
busy bandaging Jose with strips of his shirt, 
paused long enough to give him a searching look 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 281 

without warmth. Now that David Rand was 
found, and caught red-handed in the act of com¬ 
manding a lethal attack on the kingdom of a 
former friend, the dogged loyalty which had 
brought his other comrades to rescue him was 
turning cold. They were white men to the back¬ 
bone, following white men’s codes. He was a 
renegade, a leader of jungle murderers, a white 
savage who wore the stork-and-toucan ear tufts, 
the tooth-and-claw necklace, the long hair and 
the tiny loin-clout of the head-hunter, and who 
had placed himself outside the white man’s pale. 
Yet, knowing their thoughts, he stood calm, im¬ 
passive, naked and unashamed. 

To the unveiled enmity of the White Ones 
likewise he returned a steady, indifferent regard. 
His air was oddly Indian, rather than that of a 
white man; his face expressionless, his bearing 
stoically apathetic. His green gaze drifted over 
the little assemblage and then rested again on 
Nune. He spoke no word. 

Knowlton rose, shirtless and wiping his red¬ 
dened hands on his breeches. 

“He’ll do,” he said, nodding toward Jose. 
“Is the road clear below, Tim?” 

“Yeah. Safe enough,” judged Tim, after a 
look at the dying fight of the Huambiza rem¬ 
nant. “Them Warm Beezers are sewed up 
tight, far’s I can see, and that path up the rock 
ought to be open for traffic by the time we git 
there. Le’s go.” 


282 THE KING OF NO MAN'S LAND 


Obeying a few Spanish words from McKay, 
several muscular Sumataras carefully lifted their 
wounded king and, cradling him in their inter¬ 
locked arms, sidled along the narrow way, 
grunting to those ahead to move. Reaching the 
path, they faced forward, raising their burden 
to their shoulders. Preceded by a vigilant van¬ 
guard of his fighters and followed by his captor 
and his rescuers, Jose rode down the path as he 
had come up it—unconscious. 

As they went, Rand glanced at each Huam- 
biza body lying in the trail, shot down by Knowl- 
ton and McKay. Sprawling face down, huddled 
on their sides as if asleep, or staring sightlessly 
straight up at the hard hot sky, the dead sav¬ 
ages lay as mute reproaches to the renegade 
white who had led them to their doom. Jose, 
under the same conditions, would have ground 
his teeth and luridly cursed the enemies who had 
slain his followers. Rand viewed them as casu¬ 
ally as the rocks around them. His countrymen, 
covertly watching, could detect no change of ex¬ 
pression, no flicker of emotion in his counte¬ 
nance. He stepped coolly over the dead and 
ambled onward without a look behind. 

As they emerged into the cleared space, the 
vanguard, which previously had moved in file, 
bunched around the bearers, their spears and 
machetes and guns turned forward and aside as 
a bristling hedge against all comers. The ex- 
soldiers tacitly closed about Rand and Nune, 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 283 

covering them on both sides and the rear from 
any blood-mad Sumataras who might assail the 
captured enemy leader. 

The last feeble resistance by the overwhelmed 
Huambizas died out as the little band ap¬ 
proached, and at once a horde of blood-smeared 
human wolves bounded at the whites, yelling in 
ferocious exultation. As they saw their ruler 
apparently dead and the white head-hunter 
walking behind him, the yells swiftly changed 
to a harsh rumble of wrath. 

Hot-eyed Indians, snarling, converged on 
Rand. He looked at them with the same un¬ 
broken calm, walking on without a sign of con¬ 
cern. His self-appointed protectors threw their 
rifles halfway to an aim. 

“Alto!” roared McKay. “Your king lives. 
Lay no hand on his captives 1 ” 

The avengers slowed. All knew this hard- 
jawed Scot and his mates to be close friends of 
their king, and his words gave the affair a dif¬ 
ferent aspect. The king lived; that was very 
good. And the white Huambiza was the king’s 
captive, who would be dealt with in the king’s 
own way at his own good time. The other 
white men were saving the prisoner for the king’s 
personal vengeance. The Huambiza woman, 
too, who had been treated with such unseemly 
kindness, now was evidently an enemy prisoner 
also. No doubt the king would inflict dire pun¬ 
ishment on them both. It was well. They cer- 


284 the KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

tainly would not interfere with their ruler’s 
plans. 

Some of them turned away to search for any 
possible Huambiza survivors. Others hurried 
ahead to make sure that the cliff path was 
opened. More of them simply walked along as 
additional escorts, beginning to think of their 
women and children and hoping to find them 
safe on the top of the rock. 

Progress was slow, for the ground here was 
literally covered with slain, and small parties of 
Sumataras obstructed the way while they found 
and carried out their own dead and wounded. 
When the beginning of the cliff path was reached 
another delay was met; for now that path was 
alive with women and children of the White 
Ones, bounding down to spread over the battle¬ 
field and seek their own men. Sharp yells to 
the guards at the top, however, resulted in a 
stemming of the rush. Then the bearers and 
the white began the ascent. 

Silently they climbed. The path was slippery 
with blood, obstructed here and there by rock 
chunks dropped from above and by crushed and 
mangled Huambiza bodies. The sun, rolling 
far down, was turning red and casting a sinister 
glare through the thin haze still hovering over 
the scene of the fight. Its glow touched the 
drawn face of the limp king of the White Ones 
and then was gone, the file of climbers passing 
into the shadow of the curving precipice. And 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 285 

when the top of the rock was reached and the 
weary but still ready guards gave free passage, 
the shadow seemed to have spread over the en¬ 
tire summit, though the sun still shone. It was 
a shadow of silence, of solemnity, of somber 
looks from the people who stood motionless 
there and watched the battle-stained men plod 
past with their quiet burden. 

Across the disordered little tableland marched 
the cortege, followed by a growing throng of 
those who had not yet descended the cliff path. 
Nobody spoke. A funereal quiet held the place, 
broken only by an occasional distant shout among 
the warriors down below. As the head of the 
column neared the family house, a tall young 
woman in the regal feather dress ran forward, 
and the escort made way for her to reach the 
side of Jose. She was Huarma, eldest of the 
nine sisters who were the wives of the king, and 
expert in jungle medicine. Wordless, she walked 
beside her mate, studying him. Then, still 
unspeaking, she turned on the pair of white 
Huambizas a gaze startling in its smoldering 
wrath. 

Through his doorway passed Jose on the 
shoulders of his men, the low red sun shooting 
a final blast of heat over him before he vanished 
into the dusky room beyond. At once the other 
Sumatara warriors closed before the door, bar¬ 
ring the way with bloody weapons. The whites 
unconcernedly wheeled to the left and marched 


286 THE KING OF NO MAN'S LAND 


away, heading for the council house which had 
been the abode of the three partners. They 
reached it, entered it, and coolly took posses¬ 
sion, without interference or objection by the 
guards. But after they passed in, tall spearmen 
significantly took post before its only exit. 

“You two are our prisoners/ 1 McKay lacon¬ 
ically stated. Rand nodded without comment, 
well aware that these three were his only pro¬ 
tectors, but giving no sign of concern, for the 
future. Squatting in Indian fashion, he clasped 
his hands upon his pain-racked head and was 
still. Over that bowed head Nune, ignoring the 
Americans, extended her right hand and her gold 
cross, her lips moving soundlessly and her eyes 
full of tenderness. Then she sank beside him, 
timidly resting her other hand on his shoulder. 
He made no move. 

So Jose Martinez, king of the White Ones, 
came home; struck down in his own stronghold, 
captured and kicked by the man whose forces 
he had masterfully gone forth to smash, borne 
like a corpse to the care of his women. And so 
David Rand, fighting chieftain of the Huam- 
bizas, reached the end of his power—a prisoner, 
yet a conqueror; escorted in his downfall by 
former officers of one of the greatest armies of 
the world, and doubly blessed by the winsome 
priestess of Piatzo. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


AFTERMATH 

O NCE more the smokes of steadily ascending 
fires rose from the green depths of the 
stronghold of the White Ones. Once more its 
men and boys moved ceaselessly along its shad¬ 
owy paths, the men carrying lifeless bodies 
struck down by their weapons, the boys trans¬ 
porting fuel to replenish the flaming brands 
heaped high at certain designated spots. But 
now the fires were not preparing food for fight¬ 
ers, but consuming the fighters themselves; the 
burdens brought to them were not the little 
people of the tree tops, but heavier, fiercer crea¬ 
tures born to prowl on the ground and destroy 
their own fellows. Though the gloating phan¬ 
tom of War had sunk again below the horizon, 
the somber smudges now darkening the sky were 
more truly a tribute to that evil spirit than those 
of a fortnight ago. They rose from human sac¬ 
rifices to his red memory. 

At the first light of a new day all Sumatara 
warriors still able to walk had taken up the vi¬ 
tally necessary work of cleansing their settle¬ 
ment—all, that is, except the worn-out but still 
watchful guards of the central rock. These lat- 
287 


288 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 


ter, without ostentation, but without the slight¬ 
est relaxation of vigilance, held their posts at 
the top of the path and at the houses where 
rested their king and the five aliens. Every 
other male subject of Jose who could limp along 
and bear a weight w'as helping to purge his 
homeland of the hated Huambizas. 

For the dead White Ones—and there were 
many more of these than King Jose could well 
spare—were built real funeral pyres, whereon 
the fallen warriors were laid with all honor and 
carefully defended from the flocking vultures 
until the torches were applied. For the Huam¬ 
bizas, the cremation piles were thrown together 
as if for the incineration of offal; and the at¬ 
tentions of the winged ghouls to the head-hunt¬ 
ers awaiting disposal were unchecked. Further¬ 
more, the fires consuming the recent antagonists 
were kindled at long distances apart. Even in 
their mutual destruction, no Huambizas were 
allowed to mingle their ashes with those of 
Sumataras. 

To only one of the White Ones was given a 
more dignified form of funeral—interment, in 
a great clay jar, beneath the floor of his home— 
the burial accorded to chiefs. This was Aillu, 
the grim commander of the White Ones of the 
king’s eastern country. It had been he who led 
the onslaught into the Huambiza mass which 
later succeeded in cutting off the left flank; and, 
after smashing a red lane well into the army of 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 289 

Rand, he had gone down, pierced by half a 
dozen poisoned spears. Curac, of the perpetual 
smile, was still alive and grinning, though gashed 
from head to foot. 

Meanwhile, in the little homes, the seriously 
wounded received the ministrations of their 
women; those for whom there was no hope 
stoically awaited the end, while those who were 
merely disabled heard from their mates the tale 
of how the horde from the west had burst 
through the barrier and assailed them. 

The thundering alarm of the tunday drum at 
the canon of entrance had given warning to the 
people of the bowl, and the terrific resistance 
of the guards on the cliffs had checked the irrup¬ 
tion long enough to allow nearly all of the in¬ 
habitants to attain the virtually impregnable 
summit of the mesa. Of that fight at the en¬ 
trance no witness now remained; only the mute 
evidence lying at the rocky rift itself was left to 
show how the combat had gone. During its 
progress the warders of the other entrance had 
remained at their posts, awaiting a similar at¬ 
tack on their side—an assault which never came, 
as the Huambizas evidently were ignorant of the 
existence of another portal in the mountain rim. 
Spreading out after crushing their way through 
the canon, the head-hunters had scoured toward 
the rock fortress beyond, finding only the aban¬ 
doned Jivero women, whom they left tempo¬ 
rarily unmolested. 


290 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

Meanwhile the women and boys of the White 
Ones, reaching the summit, had hastily taken up 
any available position for defense. All had a 
passable skill in the use of jungle weapons, and 
there was a plentiful stock of such weapons in 
a storehouse on the mesa. These, under the 
cool-headed direction of the wives of Jose, had 
been rapidly dealt out; the fighting queens had 
armed themselves with rifles and ammunition 
from the private arsenal of their Spanish lord, 
and the guards, rushing all their reserve car¬ 
tridges to the garrison hut commanding the cliff 
path, had concentrated their attention on the 
work of holding the pass. 

Then had come the head-hunters—and met 
a rain of arrows, spears, and bullets from the 
top. For a time there had been comparatively 
little action on their part; they had kept them¬ 
selves covered in the trees and reconnoitered all 
around the citadel, seeking the most vulnerable 
approaches. At length, finding that there was 
but one passage and that their howled insults 
failed to goad the supposed men at the summit 
into descending, they had concentrated on an 
attempt to rush the shelf as they had rushed 
the gate. 

From that time—about midday—until mid¬ 
afternoon, when the panting forces of Jose 
burst like a thunderbolt upon their backs, the 
Huambizas had fought with inflexible determi¬ 
nation to win their way up, and the defenders to 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 291 

crush them down. Rush after rush had failed, 
but again and again they came. The women, 
levering away rock after rock from the wall 
at the edge, had toppled them into the mass or 
down on the slippery shelf; the ready guards had 
riddled all who rounded the turn near the top; 
and still they tried, with a tenacity astounding 
in men of the head-shrinking tribes—who usu¬ 
ally have no stomach for a long fight with 
heavy losses. They seemed to be not only de¬ 
void of fear, but driven by a commander who 
cared nothing for casualties. 

For a long time the defenders had been vir¬ 
tually unscathed. The head-hunters had few 
guns, and most of their arrows fell short, struck 
harmlessly on the stone, or flew weakly into the 
soil beyond. Three boys were killed—one by 
a slug, two by poisoned arrows. But toward the 
last of the fight the guards began to suffer from 
a nagging rifle-fire. Some man below, with a 
good gun and an accurate eye, had located ex¬ 
actly the right angle for deadly work, and, de¬ 
spite the protection of their elevation and bullet¬ 
proof side walls, two of the defenders of the 
path were killed and three wounded. The 
shooting of the unseen marksman was timed to 
coincide with new advances up the shelf, and was 
obviously intended to aid the rush of the men 
storming the top. But for the unexpected re¬ 
turn of the Sumatara warriors, he might have 
eventually killed all the gunmen holding the 


292 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

citadel and thereby assured a Huambiza vic¬ 
tory. It was strongly suspected (and, indeed, 
was true) that the enemy sharpshooter was the 
white chief of the marauders, now held captive 
in the house of the king. 

Thanks to the fact that the Huambizas did 
not scour the northern portion of the vale, the 
few women and children who failed to reach 
the cliff in time to climb it escaped capture, flee¬ 
ing to the heights beyond and hiding there until 
the battle was over. On the other hand, the 
guards at the northeastern entrance, who un¬ 
doubtedly would have 'been unharmed if they 
had stuck to their stations, were killed to a man. 
They were no skulkers; and when it became self- 
evident that no enemies were nearing their own 
canon and that a furious assault on the citadel 
was raging, they forsook discretion for valor. 
Dashing to the scene of conflict and keeping 
within the cover of the trees, they drove arrow 
and bullet into their foes until hunted down and 
beheaded. That devoted little band sent at 
least five times its own number of enemies ahead 
of it over the Long Trail. 

And now, while the smokes of the aftermath 
sullenly arose and the things which had been 
men crumbled into ashes, the two rulers, victor 
and vanquished, lay in neighboring houses and 
gave no thought to what went on around them. 
Jose, drained of nerve force and vital fluid, 
slept or drowsed while nature and Huarma com- 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 293 

bined in the work of restoration. Rand, who 
had gone uncomplaining and uncommunicative 
to his hammock, now had developed a burning 
fever and a wandering mind. Each of them 
was watched continuously by a woman: Jose by 
Huarma, in command by virtue of her medical 
skill and her seniority over her eight sisters; 
Rand by Nune, who, deprived of the privilege 
of seeking jungle herbs of which she knew, could 
only hover beside him and try again and again 
the efficacy of her cross and her naive hypno¬ 
tism, which seemed strangely unavailing. 

Each, too, was visited by Knowlton, who had 
bandaged Jose among the rocks and dressed 
Rand’s slit scalp after reaching the top. Queen 
Huarma and her sisters now had heard the 
tale of how the yellow-haired northerner had 
snatched Jose from under the very noses of the 
Huambizas, and had also been told that her 
lord’s last command had been that this man be 
obeyed; wherefore she received him with marked 
friendliness and allowed him to look at the com¬ 
atose patient. The chief impressions which the 
visitor took away were that the side wound was 
a nasty one, but was receiving treatment which 
probably would result as well as if administered 
by a civilized physician; that the other injuries 
were minor in themselves, but had let out much 
blood which could not well be spared; and that 
Jose had a fighting chance and was doing as 
well as could be expected. 


294 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

On leaving, he had taken the occasion to men¬ 
tion the fact that Jose virtually owed his life 
to the action of McKay in shooting Rand and 
to Tim’s lone-handed battle to cover their re¬ 
treat; also to intimate that Rand was insane. 
The first was intended to lodge in the mind of 
the militant queen—who undoubtedly would take 
command if Jose should die—a feeling of obli¬ 
gation to both his partners; the second, to pro¬ 
vide a possible line of eventual escape for Rand. 
He happened to know that the White Ones 
usually were very chary of harming an insane 
person. 

Concerning the physical condition of Rand he 
felt no particular anxiety. The fever seemed 
to be the common jungle sickness, due mainly to 
the exposures and hardships of the long trav¬ 
erse and brought to a head by the battle and the 
bullet wound; dangerous if not properly treated, 
but curable by rest and stiff doses of quinine, 
of which the medical kit held plenty. Exter¬ 
nally the head wound was hardly worthy of 
the name, only a small section of the scalp hav¬ 
ing been torn away and the gouge being easy to 
clean. There could be no question, however, 
that even so light a clip by the high-velocity 
bullet had dealt a stunning shock to the brain. 
The odd previous history of this man, who once 
had been crazed for five years by a similar shock 
and then restored to sanity by a blow with a 
gun butt, made his future mental status a prob- 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 295 

lem which bothered all three of the men who 
had caught him. 

They were a sober trio as they sat at the 
council board of Jose that morning, speaking 
only at intervals, their eyes straying occasion¬ 
ally toward the king’s empty chair, then veering 
toward the doorway leading to the rear room 
where Rand tossed and muttered. McKay was 
even more taciturn than usual—in fact, almost 
morose; for in his memory rankled Rand’s last 
look at him. 

“You did this, Rod?” he had said, one hand 
resting on the bullet groove which had downed 
him and wrecked his power. 

McKay had nodded shortly, and for a mo¬ 
ment gray and green eyes had fronted each 
other unwinking. Then, without another word, 
Rand had moved away and lain down in his 
hammock. But the expression in the green eyes 
had stabbed to the depths of McKay’s unbend¬ 
ing soul. It was the look a man gives to the one 
whom he has trusted and found to be a traitor. 

“Wal,” said Tim, breaking a silence, “life’s 
jest one dang thing after another, as the feller 
says. We been tryin’ to git Dave, and now that 
we got him, what do we do with him? And is 
he cuckoo or ain’t he?” 

“He’s as sane as any of us,” declared Knowl- 
ton. “Or he was, until to-day.” 

The red man nodded, scowling at his cigar. 

“Yeah, that’s what I think,” he admitted. 


296 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

“He was steady as a rock yesterday. So that 
don’t give him no alibi for this Injun stuff. But 
say, mebbe he’ll be nutty now from that bullit 
crack, and if these gorillas o’ Hozy’s let him go 
we can git him away and then bust him one over 
the bean and knock him sensible again, like we 
done before. Seems like one smack makes him 
bughouse and two makes him bright.” 

McKay grunted dissent, and Knowlton shook 
his head. 

“No chance,” he disagreed. “It happened 
once, but never again. Such things are more 
rare than lightning striking twice in the same 
place. If Dave goes off his nut again now he’ll 
have to stay that way. As for what we’ll do 
with him, I don’t know any more than you. De¬ 
pends altogether on how things shape up.” 

Two nods answered this. With Rand and 
Jose both knocked out, the next moves must de¬ 
pend altogether on developments. 

So, like the humbler people of the little king¬ 
dom, who turned their eyes and their thoughts 
ever and anon to the tall rock even while clear¬ 
ing away the debris of war, the three bronzed 
and bearded men at the king’s table could only 
wait: wait for Piatzo, or the other jungle gods, 
to decree the fates of the stricken king of the 
White Ones, the fallen leader of the Huambizas 
—and the girl who had swayed the lives of both. 


CHAPTER XXV 


THE SHOW-DOWN 

A NOTHER day lit up the demesne and the 
folk-land of King Jose—a land scoured 
clean of Huambiza pollution, and a citadel from 
which a numbing shadow had been lifted. 

For days the work of removing every vestige 
of head-hunter occupation had progressed, the 
Sumataras combing the byways and the tree- 
clumps and the rock heaps for any bodies or 
bones hitherto overlooked, and the smoky fires 
consuming even the Huambiza weapons and per¬ 
sonal ornaments torn away in the fight. Then 
had come torrential rains, washing every stone 
and leaf and pounding into the soil every ash. 
And now, aside from the fact that some of the 
native warriors lived only in memory and others 
lay helpless or moved with difficulty, the green 
bowl was as it had been before its men marched 
away. 

In the little homes the mothers carried on 
their family tasks, and on the plantations the 
Jivero women toiled as became their lot; for 
the slaves, fearing the dreaded Huambizas far 
worse than their present masters, had barred 


298 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

themselves into their stockade during the battle 
and voluntarily returned to their usual labors 
afterward. Up on the heights overlooking the 
entrances new guards had taken post; and out 
at the isolated tunday stations beside the main 
trails freshly appointed operators watched and 
listened for the renewed approach of foes. 
Their vigilance went unrewarded, for the sur¬ 
viving head-hunters were far away and daily 
fleeing farther. 

From the royal mesa to the outermost listen¬ 
ing-post had spread the cheering word that the 
king had rallied and was fighting his way back 
to strength. The lacerated side wound which 
had been his worst menace now was drained of 
any incipient infection and beginning to heal, 
and the other injuries were giving no trouble. 
Just how he had received that stab under the 
ribs nobody knew—not even the victim himself. 
It had been dealt in the thick of the fight, just 
before his encounter with Rand; and, judging 
from its appearance, it might have been inflicted 
by a jaggedly broken spear haft in the hands of 
some head-hunter. At any rate, it was not poi¬ 
soned, and all indications for his recovery now 
were increasingly favorable. 

Meanwhile, Rand had recuperated more rap¬ 
idly and completely than Jose. His rambling 
talk had ceased, his clouded eyes had become 
clear, his impassive manner had returned. 
Awaking to full consciousness, he had found 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 299 

himself once more a white man, so far as ex¬ 
ternals went; for, while his mind wandered, 
Knowlton had calmly removed the barbaric ear 
tufts and necklace and clout, cut his hair and 
beard close, and put on him a shirt and breeches 
donated by Tim, whose stocky build approxi¬ 
mated that of the sick man. Except for an odd 
look on finding himself bereft of his savage or¬ 
namentation, he had given no sign of any feeling. 
Nor had he, either during or since his sickness, 
revealed anything of importance concerning his 
recent mode of life or his reasons therefor. 
His fevered mutterings had been incoherent 
and often unintelligible, and since then he had 
been almost wordless, except to the faithful 
Nune, with whom he talked briefly at intervals 
in the Huambiza jargon. To his three former 
partners he was as much of a mystery as ever. 

And now, in the big outer room, he was on 
trial before those three. Facing him across the 
massive table, McKay sat, flanked on either side 
by Knowlton and Tim; the captain cold and 
straight, the lieutenant leaning on his elbows, 
the sergeant lounging negligently, but keeping 
his eyes steadily on the prisoner. Rand, a little 
thin from his recent illness, sat calmly meeting 
the searching gaze of the men who once had 
rescued him from hopeless misery, had later led 
him to a fortune—and now had come back to 
cast him down again. Behind him, loyal as 
ever, stood Nune. 


3 oo THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

Knowlton spoke. 

“Dave, it’s time for a show-down. I think 
you know how we feel. We came down to find 
out what had become of you. We’ve found out 
—and we half wish we hadn’t. You know w r hat 
I mean. And-” 

“No. I don’t know what you mean.” 

The interruption came with such unexpected 
quickness that the others started. Across the 
inscrutable countenance had leaped a flash, into 
the green eyes had flared a light, that surprised 
them as would a gunshot in an apparently life¬ 
less thicket. 

“Huh?” exclaimed Tim. 

“You heard me. I don’t know what you 
mean by horning into my affairs. I don’t know 
what you mean by taking sides with Jose and 
against me; by helping him to hold a white girl 
prisoner; by fighting my men and shooting me— 
from ambush, like damned cowards!” 

His self-constituted judges sat speechless, 
staggered by this frontal attack. As the con¬ 
cluding epithet sank home, a red wave swept 
across their faces and their eyes narrowed. Mc¬ 
Kay’s mouth became a thin line. But then, slow¬ 
ly, their heads turned toward one another, 
moved by a simultaneous thought. Three slight 
nods were followed by a silence. Rand broke 
' it. 

“Wrong. I’m not crazy again. My mind is 



THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 301 

better than all three of yours together. I know 
enough to mind my own business. You don’t.” 

Knowlton winced. McKay scowled. Tim 
looked troubled. 

“Since when have you been my keepers?” 
railed Rand. “By what right do you trail me 
thousands of miles and shove your oar into an 
affair that lies between me and another man? 
Who are you, to set yourselves up as my 
judges?” 

Tim, once Rand’s bunkie and canoe-mate, 
thumped a heavy fist on the board. 

“By cripes! he’s right!” he asserted. “Jest 
what I was tellin’ ye before we started west. 
When we’d found out Dave was alive and goin’ 
strong I told ye we hadn’t no call to butt in and 
we better haul in our horns and beat it. But 
then Hozy-” 

He paused, frowning and rubbing his chin. 

“But then Jose,” sneered Rand, “knowing I 
might come after him, wound you around his 
thumb. You trotted along with him like good 
little boys. You won his fight for him. You 
shot me for him. You-” 

“That’s a lie!” barked McKay, leaning for¬ 
ward with fists clenched. The last thrust had 
pierced to the rankling sore spot on his soul. 

“A lie!” he repeated. “I shot you because 
that was the only way to get you, you fool!’ 

“Which changes nothing,” retorted Rand. 
“You shot me for Jose. He wasn’t good enough 




302 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

to get me, so you got me—when I wasn’t look¬ 
ing. Don’t see how you came so near missing 
me, Guess you’re not so good as you used to 
be. Getting old and shaky.” 

The taunt deepened the scowl between the 
captain’s bushy brows, but a blank expression 
grew beneath them. For a moment he stared. 
All at once he sat back with a mirthless chuckle. 

“Missing! Old and shaky! Ye gods!” he 
snorted. “Look here, you idiot, do you think I 
shot to kill?” 

“Of course. What else?” 

Another silence, while the three stared first 
at him and then at one another. Then Tim 
rumbled: “Wal, whaddye know about that! 
No wonder he’s sore on us. Hey, lookit here, 
Dave, git this straight: 

“Cap never tried to kill ye. He done jest 
what he aimed to do—knock ye out a li’l’ while 
so’s we could git ye clear o’ that head-hunter 
gang. Talk about shootin’! Me, I can shoot 
some meself, but I’d never dast try a hair-split- 
tin’ shot like that. Cap jest creased ye, and 
then he jumped into them there Warm Beezers’ 
faces and spit in their eyes and drownded ’em, 
so’s he could git ye safe into the rocks. And 
he lugged ye up there, with this here woman o’ 
yourn tryin’ to gouge his eyes out while he done 
it, and the whole howlin’ mess o’ hellions tryin’ 
to git him from behind. That looks like he ^as 
shootin* to kill, don’t it? Say, feller, who’s 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 303 

been feedin’ ye lies, anyways? Looks to me like 
there was somethin’ rotten round here.” 

This time it was Rand who frowned. It w r as 
a frown of bewilderment, almost of incredulity. 
His head started to turn toward Nune, but he 
halted the movement, still studying the belliger¬ 
ently honest Irish face. 

Knowlton, watching shrewdly, spoke up: 

“Looks to me as if we needed a complete 
house-cleaning. You were pretty woozy after 
that crack on the head, I remember, and the only 
one you’ve talked with since then has been Nune. 
She’s a fine girl and she means all right, but 
there are a good many things she doesn’t under¬ 
stand about this matter, and what she’s told you 
has naturally been biased by her own ideas. If 
we’re ever going to have that show-down and 
have it right, all the cards have to be on the 
table. We’ll lay ours out first and then look at 
yours. Fair enough? All right. Now here s 
what we’ve done and why we’ve done it.” 

For nearly an hour he talked, giving Rand 
the exact truth: narrating the course of events 
since their departure from the States, making 
plain the reasons for all their moves, explaining 
completely how and why they had been allies of 
Jose. Through it all Rand sat silent, various 
expressions dawning on his face, then fading out. 
At the end his gaze dropped and dwelt unsee- 
ingly on the broad mahogany board. 

For some time he sat thus, his face unread- 


304 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

able, one hand absently fumbling at a shirt 
button as if some subconscious impulse prompted 
him to remove the white-man garment. At 
length he looked up again, regarding his quon¬ 
dam partners with a steady gaze from which 
the bitterness had melted. 

“Thanks, Merry,” he said, in an altered 
tone. “I apologize. Ought to have known bet¬ 
ter. But I’ve been living lately in a world of 
treachery and suspicion—trusting no man— 
finding no man worthy of trust. Got the habit, 
perhaps, of believing the worst of everybody. 
That’s not an excuse; merely a possible ex¬ 
planation. 

“I can’t lay out my cards as easily as you 
did, or make them as plain to read. They’re 
unusual cards; you never saw any like them be¬ 
fore. Maybe you can’t understand them. It’s 
taken me a long time to read them myself. The 
best I can do is to try to give you the general 
idea.” 

As he spoke, the others unconsciously settled 
back in relaxation. The man now talking was 
not the harsh head-hunter, nor the Sphinxlike 
captive, but the old Dave whom they knew. 

“First let me ask you a rather unnecessary 
question that may help you understand what 
comes later,” he went on. “When you were 
in the States did you ever feel inclined to come 
back to the jungle?” He w r as looking squarely 
at McKay. 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 305 


“Sometimes,” admitted the captain. 

“I know. So did the rest of you. I remem¬ 
ber one of our little reunions—just before you 
sailed for Europe, Rod—when we half agreed 
that we’d come back sometime and explore the 
Tapajoz River, south of the Amazon, just to 
see what sort of fellows the Mundurucu Indians 
were. We didn’t care anything about the Mun- 
durucus. We just felt the jungle call. We said 
we’d do it ‘some time,’ whenever we got fed up 
on civilization. I’m just recalling this to remind 
you how the jungle life calls a man back. 

“Well, I didn’t say much then. I let you fel¬ 
lows do the talking. But I was already fed up; 
restless; dreaming about the wilds down here; 
aching to get back. You may remember that I 
wrote a few articles about the Amazonian 
aborigines which attracted some attention. I 
tried to tell myself I was doing it to further 
scientific knowledge. But I wasn’t. I was doing 
it because my thoughts kept revolving around 
this region down here, and the writing was a 
partial outlet for those thoughts. 

“The outlet was too small. It was like trying 
to relieve pressure on a dam by boring a gimlet 
hole in it. The little trickle that came through 
did no good. The pressure kept on increasing. 
By and by the dam broke.” 

He paused, searching the faces of his audi- 
tors. 

“That’s a muddy explanation,” he deprecated. 


306 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

“I’m no professor, with the gift of making 
things clear. But maybe you get my drift/’ 

“Sure,” nodded Knowlton. “We know what 
that kind of pressure is. The only way a fellow 
can ease it is to go out and get action. You 
had to break loose and come south.” 

“Exactly. I stood it off as long as I could. 
Then I had to come fast. Didn’t see any reason 
for dragging you fellows into it—two of you 
were out of reach anyway, and Tim was bucking 
the stock game— By the way, Tim, how did 
you make out?” 

“Went broke,” grunted Tim. 

“So? Tough luck. Not surprising, though. 
You’re too honest for that game. 

“Well, I came south, alone. Had a desire 
to see just what sort of people the Jiveros were. 
Knew I was likely to lose my own head, but took 
a chance. Been taking chances ever since. 

“I had a plan, of course. Also an excuse. 
My excuse—to myself—was that it would be a 
valuable contribution to science to obtain all 
possible information about the head-shrinking 
tribes. My plan was something like this: 

“I would find some town where some of the 
Jiveros came to trade, as they sometimes do. 
When any of them came in I’d give them some 
presents; tell them I wanted to visit them; let 
them carry news of me to their people; get on 
the right side of them and gradually ease my way 
into their country. As insurance for my life, 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 307 

I’d promise them more presents—things they’d 
give their eye teeth to get—to be delivered to 
them after I returned to the town I set out from. 
I’d play up those presents all the time I was with 
them, keeping it in their minds that if they killed 
me they’d never get those wonderful things. 
Since those gifts would be worth a good deal 
more to them than my head would, I’d have a 
decent chance of living to keep my promises. 
Sounds crazy, of course. Still, it might have 
worked. 

“From wdtat I could learn at Riobamba, I 
figured Macas as my best bet. Started overland 
with a young army of Quichua packers bossed 
by a half-breed capataz—foreman. Followed 
the old LJpano trail—hundreds of years old, and 
horrible going; it runs south from Riobamba to 
the lakes where the Rio Upano starts, then 
cuts east through the mountains, flanking the 
Upano more or less, and ends at Macas. I 
never reached-” 

“Wait a minute,” interposed Knowlton. “We 
heard that you came down the Pastasa and were 
seen at Ambato-” 

“Somebody lied. I never saw Ambato. 
Never saw Macas, either. That half-breed 
capataz was a bad egg. Steered me away to the 
south of Macas, on a branch trail. He and the 
whole gang quit me in the night, with most of 
my equipment. But he got his. Months later 




308 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

I found their heads and my plunder in a Huam- 
biza house.” 

“Yeah?” chuckled Tim. “So that’s why yer 
gang never come out, hey? Them Warm Beez- 
ers done a good job that time!” 

Rand nodded, a grim smile quirking his 
mouth. 

“Right. They settled my score for me. 
Also, they got for nothing all the fine presents 
that were to be my insurance. I was left in a 
beautiful pickle. If I’d been a green explorer, 
as that capataz thought, I’d be dead long ago, 
as he intended. He didn’t know I had once 
been a jungle Indian for five long years. 

“It didn’t take me long to find out what I 
was up against. I didn’t know where Macas 
was, and I wasn’t fool enough to throw away 
my life trying to find out. I was completely lost, 
and I knew it. And I knew I had to do one of 
two things—remain a white man and die like 
one, or turn Indian again and live like one. 
And so, right then and there, I did a backslide. 

“I went the limit. Found a brook, made a 
little hang-out, and cached everything I had left 
—clothes and all—except knife and gun and 
cartridges. Went naked. Found a hole among 
the trees and sat in the sun awhile every day, 
tanning myself, toughening my skin. Made bow 
and arrows to save cartridges and hunt quietly. 
Got plenty to eat, and saw nobody. Killed sev¬ 
eral tigres and made a claw necklace and armlets. 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 309 

Killed some toucans and a jabiru stork and saved 
the feathers. Before the half-breed turned 
crooked he had told me that any Jivero who 
wore ear tufts made from these feathers was a 
great hunter—those two birds are hard to get, 
you know. So I made ear tufts, pierced my 
lobes with thorns, kept the holes open until they 
healed, and then wore the feathers. Yes, I 
went the limit. 

“Why? Because I’d determined to visit the 
Jiveros, anyhow. Since I couldn’t be a white 
man and live, I was going to be a thorough In¬ 
dian—and a he-man Indian with hunter’s badges 
and everything. And what’s more, I was hav¬ 
ing the time of my life. I even quit thinking of 
myself as a white man playing Indian—I was 
Indian. It came easy. I enjoyed it. The only 
trouble was that I was lonesome. 

“When I was ready I quit my hang-out, carry¬ 
ing nothing but weapons and a hide bag full of 
cartridges. Followed the brook to a creek, and 
the creek to the Rio Morona. Scouted down 
the river. Found another creek showing signs 
of use; went up that; found a Huambiza tribe 
house; looked it over; saw that it looked peace¬ 
able at the moment; and walked right in and 
made myself at home.” 

Again he paused, a slight smile of reminiscence 
lightening his somewhat set expression. 

“Ye sure had yer nerve, feller!” breathed 
Tim. “And what ’d they do about it?” 


3 io THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

“Nothing. Crowded around, made faces, 
jabbered, wrangled about whether to kill me, 
but let me live. Huambizas are human. Curi¬ 
ous as children. I was a freak—a white Indian 
with green eyes. Their eyes are always black 
or brown. They wanted to know all about me 
before killing me. I kept them interested. 
Talked mostly by signs, of course. Lied like 
the devil. Told them I was a Mayoruna from 
the Rio Javary. Said I got the gun and cart¬ 
ridges from a white man I’d killed. They be¬ 
lieved that, because I wore the expert hunter’s 
ear badge. If I was a top-notch hunter I must 
be a good man-killer; that’s how they reasoned. 

“The chief figured I’d be a handy man in his 
gang. Tried me out first at hunting. I made 
good. Then his outfit went on a raid into Jivero 
territory, across the Morona, taking me along. 
Jiveros never were my friends, and I was more 
than willing to shoot ’em up. I did my share of 
fighting, and more. The raid was a huge success 
and I was high gun. But I took no heads or 
women; let the chief and the medicine-man have 
my share. That made them like me all the bet¬ 
ter. After that I wasn’t watched so closely. 
Could do about as I pleased. 

“What really pulled me through, though, was 
my Indian training years ago; my ability to be 
really Indian and speak, act, think Indian. 
There isn’t one white man in a million who 
could have put it over. But I did. 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 311 


“I learned practically all there was to know 
about the Huambiza customs, beliefs, mode of 
living, head-shrinking process, and so on. Could 
have escaped down the Morona without much 
difficulty, and gotten home via the Amazon. 
But I hardly even thought about it. The scien¬ 
tific world—even the white man’s world—might 
as well have been on another planet. 

“I had backslid a good deal farther than I ex¬ 
pected to or intended to. I had gone back sev¬ 
eral thousand years. I, David Rand, wealthy, 
educated, socially eligible, and so on, had ceased 
to be even a white man. I was a savage. I was 
content to remain a savage. With the way to 
the white man’s world open before me, I 
couldn’t take it. 1 couldn’t go back!” 


CHAPTER XXVI 


THE THROWBACK 

D O you actually mean to tell us/’ de¬ 
manded McKay, “that you liked the life 
of those infernal head-hunters so well that you 
couldn’t break away from it?” 

Rand sighed, as if facing a hopeless task. 
“I was afraid you wouldn’t understand,” he 
said. “As I told you, this is something you 
never met before. It’s totally outside your ex¬ 
perience. Mine, too. It’s only lately that I’ve 
been able to understand my own make-up. 

“When I tell you I became Indian, you don’t 
quite follow me. You think I mean that I was 
still Dave Rand of New York, playing at being 
an Indian. But I mean that I was Indian. By 
‘Indian’ I don’t mean a redskin; I mean a primi¬ 
tive man—the same kind of man our white an¬ 
cestors were in prehistoric times. They were 
savages, like the present-day red or brown man 
whom we call ‘Indian.’ I am that kind of 
savage. 

“Listen. Every one of us is the descendant 
of thousands—perhaps millions—of ancestors. 
Every one of us has in him certain characteris¬ 
tics inherited or acquired from his immediate 
312 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 313 

ancestors, and others handed down to him from 
his remotest progenitors. Now and then a child 
comes into the world who is altogether unlike 
anybody born into his family within the memory 
of recent generations. He remains different all 
his life; his mental make-up is a mystery to his 
people, and usually to himself. The fact is that 
that man is a throwback to some forgotten fore¬ 
father. Perhaps his dominant characteristics 
are those of a very early ancestor. Let him get 
into an environment that fits those characteris¬ 
tics, and he may revert completely to the origi¬ 
nal type. He is a case of atavism. That’s what 
I am. A case of atavism.” 

A short silence ensued. McKay and Knowl- 
ton watched him with thoughtful frowns, turn¬ 
ing over this revelation in their minds, fim 
looked blank, but asked no questions. All 
waited for the strange man, whom they had 
known so well and yet so little, to go on. 

“When I was a youngster,” Rand resumed, 
“I was always restless. Got into the roughest 
games I could find. Got into a lot of fights. 
Had no use for girls. There are plenty of boys 
like that. Usually their folks tame them down 
as they grow older. Mine tried to. They didn t 
understand me. Plenty of money, social posi¬ 
tion, and all that; and they didn’t approve of my 
rough tendencies—wanted me to be a ‘nice boy.’ 
I did the best I could, for their sakes. But my 
best wasn’t very good. 


3 i4 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

“We traveled every summer—Europe, Egypt, 
other regular places—but I was always dissatis¬ 
fied and bored; hungry for something, some 
other place, without knowing just what I 
wanted. After college I traveled on my own 
hook; saw Japan, Asia, and so on; still bored. 
Didn’t know enough to come down here. I’d 
been brought up to move in the usual expensive 
beaten paths, and didn’t know any others. 

“Then I did get down here—and had five 
years of hell. But here’s the point: I lived 
through it, where any other white man of my 
set would have died. When I got hit in the 
head by a bullet and my brain went foggy—my 
expensively educated white man’s brain—I be¬ 
came a wild jungle man without the least dif¬ 
ficulty. And I lived that way for five years. 
That prehistoric man inside me, who had been 
driving me over the earth hunting for some 
place where he could be content, came into his 
own. He was crippled, weakened, but he pulled 
me through. 

“When you knocked white-man ideas back 
into my skull I was glad to go home. Even now, 
I never want to see that Javary region again; 
I suffered too much there. But before long I 
was restless, and when you chaps decided to try 
for gold down here I came along. And for 
the first time in my life I felt at home. Thought 
it was because I’d spent so long a time in the 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 315 

jungle before. Now I know better. It was 
thousands of years older than that. 

“But I was still Dave Rand of New York; 
one of four civilized white men. Constant as¬ 
sociation with you fellows kept me civilized. 
When you were ready to go back, I went. I 
remained David Rand, white man, until I was 
here alone—completely cut off from anything 
civilized; surrounded by aboriginal influences. 
Then my environment was right—the savage 
life, absolutely primitive conditions. I back¬ 
slid the whole distance. My atavistic self got 
control. 

“It wasn’t a question of liking the head-hunt¬ 
ers, Rod. I don’t like them; don’t like their 
hellish head-shrinking. But aside from their 
murderous tendencies—and perhaps even there 
.—their life is that of our own primitive white 
ancestors. They war, they hunt, they attack 
and are attacked by man-eating cats and huge 
reptiles, just as your fathers and mine did in by¬ 
gone ages. This part of the world is still in 
the raw. It—it’s my world!” 

It was Knowlton, more sensitive and sympa¬ 
thetic than his companions, who nodded as 
Rand stopped, glancing from man to man. 

“I think we understand, Dave,” he encour¬ 
aged. “Go on.” 

“Well, I stayed. But I had my troubles. I 
still was not a Huambiza; I was a Mayoruna, 
an outlander. Other warriors were jealous. 


316 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

They watched for their chance to do me in. I 
knew it. Saw I had to make myself top dog or 
go under. It would take too long to tell you 
how I fought my way up. I worked fast—no 
halfway measures—and got control. After a 
while I had a big gang jumping when I snapped 
the whip. 

“Since they live to fight, I gave them plenty 
of fighting. What’s more, I chanced on a jungle 
drug that makes men absolutely fearless. 
Caught a medicine-man drinking it before a 
fight and bullied the secret out of him. It’s 
a root called kaapi, and a little drink of the 
brew from it will make a dwarf feel like a giant. 
Gave it to my men after that, and there was no 
stopping them when they went into action. It 
wears off after a while, of course, but the usual 
jungle battle doesn’t last long. 

“Between the kaapi and the natural ferocity 
of the Huambizas, we licked every outfit we 
tackled. I got a big reputation, and fighters 
came in from all around to join my crowd when¬ 
ever a raid was afoot. We warred altogether 
on other native tribes—Jiveros and Antipas— 
and kept away from the towns. The men were 
always itching to tackle a town—Macas, for 
one—and get Spanish heads and women. But 
I held them off. Kept them fighting their own 
natural enemies—dog eat dog.” 

“You couldn’t quite get away from your white 
blood, then,” interjected McKay. 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 317 

“Maybe not. But I didn’t go through any 
mental struggles about the ethics of attacking 
or not attacking a town. I was the prehistoric 
man, doing as he pleased. I pleased to fight 
Jiveros and not to fight whites. If the people 
of Macas, or any other place, had made me their 
enemy I’d have jumped them like anybody else.” 

His eyes had narrowed again, and their de¬ 
fiant gleam showed that he knew this declara¬ 
tion would damage him—and that he did not 
care. 

“I see.” McKay’s tone hardened. “And 
why did it please you to turn your fiends loose 
against your old partner, Jose Martinez ? Were 
you offered any inducements by Peru, for in¬ 
stance ?” 

“Inducements? I don’t know what you re 
talking about. Peru is nothing in my life. I 
hit back at Jose Martinez because Jose Mar¬ 
tinez had taken from me the one thing in the 
world that I cared about!” 

“You mean— Hm! You mean Nune?” 

“I mean Nune.” 

For the first time since the conference had 
begun he glanced upward at the girl. All 
through the talk she had stood soundless, tire¬ 
less, her steady gaze fixed on the faces turned 
toward her Rana, her quick perceptions seeking 
to interpret expressions and tones. Now she 
looked questioningly down at the man whom 
she had long ago acknowledged as her lord. 


3 i8 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

With a wordless gesture he indicated that she 
should sit beside him. Obediently she sank on 
a chair. 

“I mean this girl,” he repeated. “I’ve never 
been a ‘woman’s man.’ You know that. I 
learned early to see through the hypocrisy and 
selfishness and artificiality of ‘the Colonel’s 
lady and Judy O’Grady,’ and the older I grew 
the more hard-boiled I was toward women. But 
—well, blood calls to blood, after all. This 
young lady’s as white as you are. Do you know 
her history?” 

Nods answered. 

“All right. When I knew her over west I 
was sorry for her. I thought that was all my 
feeling amounted to—just sympathy. But after 
she disappeared I woke up. I realized then that 
she was the only real girl I’d ever known, and 
that she was my girl. I had to find her and kill 
the man who had taken her. I went on the war 
path in dead earnest. 

“Jiveros took her away, you know. I went 
after the Jiveros rough-shod. But we lost all 
trace of her. Finally we found some women 
who knew about her. They said she’d been cap¬ 
tured from the Jiveros by the Sumataras and 
taken east. The Sumataras had wiped out their 
place and carried off all but four of the women. 
Those four had been found by Jivero men and 
brought to the settlement where I found 
them—” 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 319 

“Begorry! them’s the women that tried poi¬ 
sonin’ us!” Tim broke in. “Remember, Looey? 
Hozy made ’em stay behind. And lookit what 
come of it! If he’d killed ’em, Dave would be 
pokin’ round the bush yet, and Hozy wouldn’t 
be in hospital, and a lot o’ his gorillas would be 
livin’ instead o’ gone up in smoke, and—Gee! 
wouldn’t them women give us the laff if they 
knowed how they got back at Hozy! But listen 
here, Dave, did ye know them Sumatarries was 
Hozy’s outfit ? If ye did, whyn’t ye jest send him 
word, or—” 

Rand gave a short, harsh laugh. 

“Send word how? By whom? A Huam- 
biza? Or go myself, as a Huambiza leader?* 
Would any Huambiza live long enough to reach 
him? Humph! Are you forgetting that Jose 
and all his crowd—and you, too—were on the 
war path against me?” 

Tim was silenced. 

“I knew it was his crowd, of course,” Rand 
went on. “The women said four white men 
headed his gang—bearded men with guns. 
They also said one of the white men—the leader 
—took Nune as his woman. I never thought 
of you three as the other men. Thought they 
were Spaniards—probably outlaws—who had 
joined Jose and fought for him. 

“When I heard that Jose had carried off 
Nune I just tore east. Raided another Jivero 


320 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

settlement, took prisoners, made them guide us 
to this place—” 

“Well!” exclaimed Knowlton. “That was 
just what Jose did, trying to find you.” 

“I know. Well, I came, I saw, and I con¬ 
quered—almost. I captured Jose, and if you 
hadn’t knocked me out I’d soon have found out 
what he’d done with my girl. 

“If you still think I had no business to at¬ 
tack Jose, think again. Had I any reason to 
doubt that he’d taken Nune as his own woman? 
I once saw him take five wives at once, and four 
more later on. One more wouldn’t strain his 
conscience. I knew he was consistently running 
off Jivero women as slaves. It looked pretty, 
obvious that he had taken Nune as his property 
—one way or another. And neither he nor any 
other man could get away with that while I could 
find him! 

“And remember again that he went on the 
war path against me. Why? I’d never harmed 
him. I didn’t steal his women. I kept off his 
grounds. I was just as much his old partner as 
he was mine—but that didn’t prevent him from 
starting west to smash me! And he started be¬ 
cause he was afraid! He was afraid I might 
become as big as he was and afraid to give me 
the chance!” 

The accusation sank home. The three looked 
at one another, remembering Jose’s own state¬ 
ment that he must crush the Huambizas be- 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 321 

fore they became too powerful; that Rand’s 
fate must be “capture or death.” Rand went 
on, his mouth tightening and his eyes beginning 
to blaze. 

“Jose Martinez brags that he is a son of the 
Conquistadores. He is swollen with the idea 
of being a conquistador too. He fights to make 
a kingdom for himself and his half-breed sons. 
He grabs like his brutal ancestors. He kills, 
he takes women slaves, like the Jiveros! And 
when he finds that an old partner of his is get¬ 
ting some power too, he forgets partnership— 
friendship—everything but his own ambition. 
What I did to him was no more than he was 
trying to do to me, with less reason. And yet 
it sticks in your tender crops that I struck at 
him! You, who claim to be my friends—” 

He broke off, clamping his jaws to repress 
further denunciation: his civilized sense of fair¬ 
ness struggling with the unreasoning rage of his 
primitive self. He knew, since Knowlton’s ex¬ 
planation, why these old-time comrades had 
done as they did; yet his enmity toward Jose, 
still alive, impelled him almost to include them 
again with the Spaniard. The atavistic side of 
his nature, given free rein through recent 
months, was cropping out strongly again. And 
the three across the board, studying him, grudg¬ 
ingly admitted that his analysis of himself was 
true. 

The Rand whom they had known had been 


322 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

a taciturn man schooled in repression; a dogged, 
quietly likable fellow who never quit, never 
complained, never lost control of his temper. 
This man whom they now saw was the one 
whose existence they had never suspected—the 
hot-headed aborigine, slow to forget and slower 
to forgive, who had been imprisoned so long 
within the shell developed by refined environ¬ 
ment. That shell now was broken. Could 
Rana, the primitive, be brought again under the 
control of Rand, the civilized? 

“You’re not quite right about Jose, and not 
not quite right about us, and you’ll realize it 
when you think it over,” Knowlton said, quietly. 
“But we won’t argue that point at present. We 
see your side of it now—you could hardly ex¬ 
pect us to know all this until you told us. But 
the big point isn’t what’s gone by, but what’s to 
come. You sure had a riproaring time as a 
head-hunter chief, but you’ve reached the end 
of your rope. If we can get you off this prison 
of a rock, the only sensible thing for you to do 
is to go home and make the best of it. You can 
take Nune and have her educated—” 

The expression in the green eyes made him 
pause. It was a contemptuous, pitying look, as 
if he -were a defective child babbling nonsense. 
When Rand again spoke it was in a cold, con¬ 
trolled tone, his sentences close clipped. 

“Not a chance,” he said. “Nobody can leave 
this rock alive until Jose says so. So far as I’m 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 323 

concerned, he won’t say so. I’m done. I’ve hit 
him too hard. He’ll take his revenge. There’ll 
be an execution and I’ll be through. 

“If I could go back to the States, I wouldn’t. 
I’ve found my home—the jungle. I’d stay. 
Neither would I educate Nune in the shams of 
civilization. She’s real. I’ll keep her so. 

“Wait. Don’t talk about my money. All 
money ever did for me was make me discon¬ 
tented. I can’t use it here. Let ‘civilization’ 
have it. That’s all civilization wants—money. 

“I’ve talked enough. Too much, perhaps. 
Now it’s all said. So I’ll go back to my room 
with my wife.” 

He arose, motioning Nune toward the inner 
door. With a side-long caressing glance she 
moved away. 

“Your—what?” exclaimed McKay. 

“My wife.” Rand walked calmly after her. 
“We savages don’t bother with clergymen and 
church mummeries. Especially when we haven’t 
long to live. We mate. But since Nune likes to 
be a priestess, she has married herself to me 
with her jzross. Our marriage went into full 
effect several days ago. That’s all.” 

Through the doorway they passed, vanishing 
down the corridor. At the outer portal a couple 
of lurking watchmen drew back and were gone. 
At the king’s table McKay and Knowlton and 
Tim looked speechlessly at one another. There 
was nothing more to be said. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


THE MISTS BREAK 

M IST, streaked by sun, eddied around the 
royal rock. 

The houses stood blurred, half seen. The 
bowl below was a void in which, as the filmy 
folds of fog shifted, the nearer trees sometimes 
loomed vaguely, then vanished again. The 
heights beyond were, so far as the eye of any 
lookout could perceive, wiped from existence. 

Rain had fallen in the night, as it fell every 
night now r , growing heavier as the weeks rolled 
by; and the rising sun was engaged in its daily 
fight to rout the beleaguering ground fogs as 
the White Ones had cut apart the Huambiza 
horde. To the three yawning men who strolled 
along the edge and cast bored glances out into 
the blankness, it seemed that many a long and 
weary moon had elapsed since the last battle 
yell of that racial fight had died out. And there 
was no indication that their stay there was near¬ 
ing its end. 

“Yo-ho-ho-hum!” yawned Tim. “Same ol* 
stuff and no hope in sight. Everything foggy, 
even when there ain’t no real fog round here. 
324 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 325 

I mean we dunno nothin’; no more ’n we knowed 
six weeks ago. Dave’s a human clam—ain’t 
spoke a hundred words since that day he told 
the hist’ry of his life. Hozy won’t see nobody; 
we dunno what he’s figgerin’ on, or even how 
he is. And we’ve got to stick round till some¬ 
body or somethin’ moves. Me, I’m so sick o’ 
this dump I feel like divin’ off and takin’ a swim 
in that there fog.” 

He summarized the situation and the senti¬ 
ments of the other two. Except for one more 
call by Knowlton on Jose—at which the lieuten¬ 
ant had candidly and thoroughly explained the 
change in Rand—the Spaniard had not been seen 
by any of the Americans. He had listened in 
silence, but his hard eyes had boded no good for 
the white Huambiza. And so, though the three 
adventurers knew they could go unhindered 
whenever they willed if they would leave Rand 
behind, not one of them would budge from the 
rock. They were determined to be in at the 
final settlement, and, if necessary, to line them¬ 
selves up solidly behind Rand. But the monot¬ 
ony of waiting was increasingly irksome. 

Rand himself knew nothing of Knowlton’s 
tentative mediation with Jose. When the blond 
man visited him in turn, the first mention of the 
Spaniard’s name had evoked a growl so savage 
that the would-be peacemaker desisted from 
further talk. And since that time he had been 
as intractable as any Indian. Attempts by all 


326 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

three of the northerners to revive his interest 
in the doings of the outside world had failed. 
He even ate his meals in the room allotted to 
him and Nune, never appearing at the table 
where his countrymen habitually dined. 

Now, as usual, the three plodded halfway 
around the rock in their before-breakfast stroll, 
inhaling deeply, walking off the sluggishness 
born of the heavy night air. Then, cutting 
across, they headed back toward their quarters. 
As they approached the house, McKay squinted 
ahead and lengthened his stride. 

“Guards are gone,” he pointed out. 

It was true. For the first time since Rand had 
entered the house, no spearmen flanked the 
doorway. A quick look flashed between Knowl- 
ton and Tim. They quickened their gait to a 
lope. 

“If them guys have pulled any dirty stuff while 
we was out—” growled Tim, his fists closing. 
He left the sentence unfinished, but curt grunts 
of agreement followed it. They entered the 
house at a run. 

“Jose!” ejaculated Knowlton. 

Jose, wan and thin, but smiling at their sur¬ 
prise, sat in his great chair at the head of the 
board. The pair of missing guards, and four 
others besides, stood behind him; motionless, 
statuesque, their lances still as if planted in the 
ground. 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 327 

“Si, it is I,” bowed Jose. “May a poor crip¬ 
ple sit at your table?” 

“Faith, he can that, if he don’t eat too much,” 
grinned Tim. “But do we have to feed them 
guys, too?” 

“Not so,” laughed the king. “You need not 
even feed me. I am not yet hungry—for 
food.” The mirth died from his face as he 
added: “But I have hunger to settle a certain 
matter now—at once. It has waited too long.” 

The faces fronting him froze. For a mo¬ 
ment the three stood motionless, searching his 
grim visage, running their eyes over the sinister 
spearmen. 

“A bit early in the day, isn’t it?” suggested 
McKay. “Plenty of time after breakfast.” 

“True. But I eat better when nothing is on 
my mind.” An enigmatical smile flickered and 
was gone. “So I shall dispose of this matter 
first and have it finished. Shall I send these”— 
he motioned toward his soldiers—“to the room 
of the man Rand, or will you bring him?” 

“We’ll go.” The captain’s voice was chill. 
He strode inward, followed by his comrades. 
The going of the trio was somehow reminiscent 
of their landing at the raided Jivero settlement 
on the Yana Yacu—the same aggressive stride, 
the same compact formation, the same turning 
of backs on Jose. And as they went, the sharp 
eyes of the king studied those backs, and under 
his bold black brows gleamed an odd light. 


328 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

Down the passageway marched the northern¬ 
ers, halting before the closed door of Rand. 

“Dave!” McKay called brusquely. “Jose is 
here. Wants to see you. Come out when you’re 
ready.” 

An instant of silence. Then a grunt from 
within. They faced about, stepped back, en¬ 
tered their own room. Unspeaking, they picked 
up their pistol belts, buckled them about their 
hips, briefly inspected the weapons, reholstered 
them—and left the holsters unbuttoned. Each 
looked squarely at the others. Then they strode 
out. 

Rand’s door opened. From it emerged a 
nude figure, shoving a hand backward through 
its black hair, purposely bristling it into un¬ 
kempt disorder. It turned, muttering a curt 
command to the anxious-eyed girl who would 
follow. She hesitated, then obeyed. As her 
man stalked forward to meet his fate, she 
remained behind. 

Rand, who might have gone into court with 
his white-man clothing and the presence of Nune 
to plead mutely for him, had deliberately dis¬ 
carded both. His only garb was a clout, formed 
by a strip torn from his shirt. Had he still 
possessed them, he would have worn his bar¬ 
baric ear tufts and claw necklace. As it was, he 
stalked truculently past, muscular arms swing¬ 
ing as if carrying jungle weapons, bare toes 
gripping the ground as if it were a jungle trail, 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 329 

jaw hard and black-lashed lids narrowed as if 
confronting a jungle enemy. Without a word, 
McKay and Knowlton and Tim swung in after 
him. 

So they entered the presence of the man 
whose decree was law. Straight up to the table 
strode Rand, halting two paces from Jose. Be¬ 
hind him, his escort stopped in skirmish line, six 
feet apart, thumbs hooked into gun belts. At 
sight of the naked, hostile Huambiza chief the 
six Sumatara guards moved, their erect spears* 
swaying simultaneously like tall grass swept by 
a hot wind. But then, as their ruler spoke no 
word of command, they again became immobile. 

Jose sat unmoved, level eyed, scanning the 
defiant captive and the stern men backing him. 
A glimmer of amusement seemed to dawn and 
die on his hawklike visage. Abruptly, harshly, 
he spoke: 

“What have you to say?” 

“Nothing!” The retort was as harsh as his 

own tone. 

“So. That saves time. You have brought 
an army against me; killed my men; fought to 
make my women slaves; failed and been cap¬ 
tured—” 

“Not by you!” 

A flush shot over the wan face. But the 
Spaniard’s voice was steady as he went on: 

“It does not matter. You are caught; your 


330 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

army is destroyed. You offer no defense. 
There can be only one end for such a man.” 

Rand made no answer. His face became 
wooden, his attitude stolid. Jose, after waiting 
a minute or two, continued: 

“That is, there could be only one end if that 
man were in his senses. But when his brain is 
wrong and he has friends at hand to take him 
away, the most merciful thing is to send him 
away with them. So I am rid of him, and—” 
“To hell with your mercy!” flared the cap¬ 
tive. “My brain’s as good as yours. I stand 
on my own legs. I have no friends.” 

“So?” Jose stroked his mustache. “That is 
sad—to have no friends. It is more sad to lack 
brains enough to take advantage of a way out. 
You are right. You deserve no mercy. Yet— 
Suppose, Senor Huambiza, that you could es¬ 
cape from my power. What would you do 
then? Attack me once more?” 

“With what?” jeered the other. 

“Ah! That is so. With what? You could 
never return to the Huambizas. Your power 
among them is gone. Your head would quickly 
be filled with the hot sand. And the girl Nune 
might not fare so well among them then. Bien. 
So you would not attack me again if free. But 
if I should keep Nune here—” 

“Try it!” Rand broke in ominously. 

“Ah! Then you would come back, yes? You 
would make an army from the monkeys of the 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 331 

trees, perhaps, and attack poor old Jose. That 
would be very bad. I must not let it happen. 
Well, then, if you and Nune should both go 
free, what would you do?” 

The clouted man scowled at him. Jose ap¬ 
parently was playing with his victim; yet there 
seemed to be an object behind it—a probing 
prompted not by cruel enjoyment, but by some 
hidden purpose. Some of the hostility died out 
of the green eyes as their owner pondered the 
question. 

“Go our own way,” he answered at length. 
“Out there somewhere.” He moved his chin, 
Indian-like, toward the unseen, limitless jungle. 

“Ah,” reiterated Jose. “You would not re¬ 
turn to your United States?” 

“No!” 

The king smiled and leaned back more com¬ 
fortably in his great chair, resting his head 
against the jaguar hide. 

“So you would be a savage, a lone prowler of 
the wilds, with only your woman to keep you 
company. But after a time that life would grow 
stale. A man with a white man’s brain, who 
had been a commander of fighting men, could 
not remain forever satisfied with such an exis¬ 
tence. Nor could a girl of Spanish blood be 
content with it. And if she could— Death 
strikes suddenly in the jungle. When you were 
struck down by snake or tigre or Jivero, Nune 


332 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

would then be alone, helpless, perhaps, with a 
babe or two. And then what?” 

The prisoner’s scowl bit deeper. But it was 
a different sort of scowl; it showed that he 
caught the dread vision suggested by his inquis¬ 
itor, and that he knew well how true the predic¬ 
tion might become. Puzzlement, too, was plain 
in the expression now dominating his face as he 
studied the Spaniard. He voiced no reply. 

“You had not thought of that,” Jose re¬ 
sumed. “Yet you know that I speak truth. You 
would not let harm come to Nune. Was it not 
because of her, and her alone, that you brought 
my enemies upon me?” 

Rand, still studying him, nodded. 

“Bien. Now listen to a little story. 

“Once upon a time there was an outlaw who 
made himself king. At first he was ambitious 
for himself alone. But as he worked to build 
up his new kingdom, his ideas changed. He 
realized that he himself was only a guide for 
his people, and his task was to make them as 
powerful as possible while he lived, and to 
weaken their enemies. And so he raided and 
fought, to destroy the foes of his new nation. 

“The time came when he might have deserted 
his little kingdom and gone back to his own land 
with honor, to live again among white men. 
But he found that he could not do it. His work 
had fastened upon him so that he could not turn 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 333 

traitor to it. He had to stay and carry on what 
he had begun. 

“Now this king had had four good friends 
from the north. They had gone and left him, 
but often their memories came back to him; 
and those memories meant much, for he had 
only Indians about him, and at times he was 
sick for the companionship of another white 
man—a white man whose mind was like his own 
and whose heart was strong and true. He was 
lonely; so lonely that at times it became a sharp 
pain gnawing at him. But his friends were far 
away and he thought never to see them again. 

“Then the four comrades came back to him 
—but not together. One of them had become 
an enemy; and because that one was an enemy, 
the other three were not so friendly at times as 
before. This hurt the king. But he tried not 
to show it. For the sake of his people he must 
crush his enemy, even if he should lose all four 
of his friends. So he tried to do so. There was 
a battle, and in it his three friends saved him 
from his enemy, and captured his enemy also. 

“In this fight the king was badly hurt, and 
his hurt was not altogether that of the body. 
He had told himself that the friend who had 
turned against him must be mad. But when he 
looked into the eyes of that man he saw there 
no madness, but a bitter hate. Then that old 
friend struck him down. So, when the king 
came to himself, again, be hated, that man i® 


334 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

return with all his strength—as was only 
natural. 

“But in his sickness the king turned things 
over and over in his mind. He was in a mist, 
as all the land outside is now, and he could not 
see clearly anything but his hate for that man, 
which was very close to him. Then there came 
through that mist one who opened up the fog 
and made him see a number of things. One of 
them was that his old friend had been changed 
by the jungle into another man. Another was 
that there had been mist in that man’s eyes also 
when he struck, so that he thought the king an 
enemy instead of a friend. And as the king 
thought about this afterward, he began to see 
other things. 

“One of these new things was that after his 
friends should leave him again he would be 
more lonely than before. And it came to him 
that it was a pity that he and the friend who 
had become his enemy could not be friends 
again. That man had proved himself to be a 
fierce and powerful fighter, and a better jungle 
man than the king himself. If he wished to 
remain in the jungle, he would find the king’s 
men much more to his liking than the savages 
whom he had commanded before, since they 
were more like himself and almost white. And 
if he would fight for the king as he had fought 
against him, he would be most valuable to the 
king, not alone as a commander of warriors, but 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 335 

as a comrade to the king in his loneliness. And 
if the king should be killed in a fight or die sud¬ 
denly, then this comrade could carry on his 
work; for the king knew his new nation was not 
yet strong enough to stand without a white 
man’s head to direct it. In twenty years, per¬ 
haps, when the babes of to-day were men, the 
kingdom might be firm enough to grow as it 
should; but not now. 

“So when the king could walk again he 
walked to see that man. He wished to learn 
whether that man was truly fearless and hard 
and strong, or whether he was one of those who 
fight fiercely in a crowd, but crumble when they 
must stand alone and face bad fortune. He has 
learned. And now he waits to know whether 
that man will be again his friend and stand 
beside him in the work he means to do.” 

Utter stillness filled the room. Jose sat mo¬ 
tionless, his hollow eyes dwelling on the amazed 
face of the ex-Huambiza. Somehow he looked 
very frail, very weary, as he leaned there 
against the jaguar hide. In the past few weeks 
he had looked on his own death—and, as his 
words showed, beyond. This was no swash¬ 
buckling, red-handed conquistador who now sat 
at the table of the king. He was a man hum¬ 
bled, yet exalted, by his wanderings in the mists. 

Nor was the nude man facing him now the 
truculent, recklessly hostile atavism who had 
entered the room. His green eyes were wide, 


336 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

his mouth opening and closing soundlessly, his 
whole attitude that of mingled incredulity and 
irresolution. Once his brow darkened and his 
gaze bored into that of Jose as if he suspected 
an elaborate hoax. Then his expression cleared, 
and he looked unseeingly at the motionless 
White Ones standing like symbols of the new 
command awaiting him. 

“You—mean—that!” he muttered, huskily. 
Jose made no answer. None was needed. 

Then Rand stiffened. Firmly, but without 
animosity, he again met the gaze of the king. 

“I stay with no man as a subordinate,” he 
said. 

“I want no white subordinate,” was the quiet 
reply. “My subordinates are Indians. I want 
—a partner.” 

An instant longer Rand wavered. All at once 
a broad smile broke over his face. He strode 
forward, hand outstretched. 

“Then, by God! you’ve got one!” he vowed. 

The two right hands met with a slap. The 
watchful Sumataras moved again, then paused, 
uncertain as to whether the two comrades were 
fighting again or merely trying some strange 
shaking test of strength. At a curt word from 
their master, who seemed to see everything, 
they relaxed. 

“Whoopee!” howled Tim, breaking the spell 
which had held him and his companions. “Yee- 
ow! Hot dog! Whaddye know! All together, 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 337 

fellers! Blow off the roof in honor o’ the kink 
and his side-kick! Oh, you Hozy! Oh, you 
Dave!” 

His pistol leaped aloft. McKay and Knowl- 
ton, swept off their feet by his sudden exuber¬ 
ance, snatched their guns from their holsters. 
The room roared with smashing concussions as 
the weapons vomited flame and lead at the in¬ 
offensive palm thatch above. Not until the 
weapons were empty did the ripping salute 
cease. Then the three hurled themselves at 
Jose and Rand* pounding their shoulders and 
shaking their arms until the king yelled for 
mercy to his wounded side. 

“Valgame Dios! Do you wish Senor Dave 
to become king at once?” he cried. “At least 
let me eat breakfast before you murder me!” 

“Jose, you’re a real man! And a real king!” 
declared McKay. “I’ve been doubting you— 
but / haven’t chivalry enough to do what you’ve 
just done!” 

“It is not chivalry, Rodrigo,” Jose hastily 
disclaimed. “It is sense. When you meet a 
man too strong for you to overcome, it is good 
sense to make him your friend. Is it not true?” 

Then, with a wave of the hand, he pointed 
toward the outer door. There the sun now 
shone bright and hot. 

“See, amigos, the mists have cleared,” he 
went on. “Let no more of them come between 
us. And now, partner Dave, go and get shirt 


338 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

and breeches—and your wife—and let us all 
eat desayuno as white people should. I knew 
my appetite would be better when this thing was 
finished.” 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


ADIOS 

F IVE white men stood together for the last 
time at the council table of King Jose. 
Three of them, belted and booted for the dim 
trails, listened to the talk of the Spanish king 
himself, who, though erect and steady, rested 
slightly against the board as if not overstrong. 
The fifth, barefoot but clad in llanchama gar¬ 
ments like those of the ruler, poised easily and 
watched the others with inscrutable green eyes. 

Outside, ready and waiting, a score of ath¬ 
letic warriors lounged beside small basket packs. 
Each was a picked man, tireless and trustwor¬ 
thy, armed with carbine and machete. With 
them waited the perpetually grinning Curac, 
commander of the detachment. 

“I regret that I cannot go with you,” Jose 
was saying, “but I have not yet the strength. I 
regret, too, that I cannot send with you my new 
partner, but I fear that you might steal him 
from me and carry him home—” 

“Td be back,” interjected Rand, his set ex¬ 
pression lightening as his glance went to a 
slender form beyond the table. 

339 


340 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

“Hah! Yes. If you did not return, por 
Dios! she would not long be husbandless. She 
likes to be a queen. She might, after all, become 
the tenth wife of Jose!” 

All looked at Nune, who stood smiling, un¬ 
comprehending the talk, but easily reading the 
admiration in the masculine eyes. Once more 
she was gowned in the feather-dress of a queen 
of the rock—now not merely a temporary mas¬ 
querade, but her rightful costume by virtue of 
her lord’s new power. The proud set of her 
head, the graceful dignity of her pose, showed 
that Jose spoke truth. Nune reveled in her 
royalty. 

“Faith, ye needn’t do nothin’ like that,” Tim 
objected. “Any time this li’l’ lady needs a new 
man, send me a telegram or a radio or some¬ 
thin’, and she won’t have to wait long.” 

“I will bear it in mind, amigo,” Jose chuckled*. 
“But, joking aside, comrades, I cannot send 
Dave with you because I now need him here; 
and he does not yet know the eastern trails 
which you will follow. The men under Curac 
will guide you more speedily and surely. 

“Your best way out is to the eastward, as I 
have said. First by land to a creek, down the 
creek to a river which has no name, down that 
river to the Rio Curaray, and so into the big 
Rio Napo. There Curac and his men will say 
adios to you; for the journey down the Napo to 
the Amazon will be but play to such men as you 


34i 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

three. When you reach the village of San Juan, 
near the mouth of the Napo, get an Indian 
guide there. He will show you a cut-off to the 
southeast, which will bring you out at Iquitos. 
And there you can await a steamer which will 
carry you to the sea. 

“It is much the simplest and safest way out. 
To go back over the mountains would be hard, 
now that the rains grow heavy. To go down the 
Pastasa would be most dangerous; you will 
remember what came to Lieutenant Manuel 
Montez there. The eastward way lies through 
my own country, and there are no shrinkers of 
heads on the Napo.” 

McKay nodded. There was a short silence. 
Then— 

“Well, let’s go,” said Knowlton. 

“Wait a minute,” Rand intervened. “Got a 
message. Wish you’d just watch me sign it and 
then put your own signatures to it—as witnesses 
to my own. Then deliver it in New York—in 
person. You, Rod and Merry. Will you?” 

He drew a folded slip from a pocket. 

“Sure!” was the hearty assent. 

Rand laid the note on the table, with the 
writing turned under. In the blank space he 
wrote his name. The designated pair affixed 
their own signatures at the left. He folded it 
and handed it to McKay, unread by any of 
them. 

“Take good care of it. Important,” he 


342 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

warned, in a low tone. “Address is at the top. 
Deliver it yourselves, and be ready to take oath 
that you saw me sign it.” 

“Righto.” McKay looked curiously at him, 
but asked no questions. He placed the missive 
in a small rubber-coated wallet, shut the wallet 
tightly, stowed it in a secret pocket at his waist¬ 
band, and snapped the pocket-fasteners securely. 
“Anything else?” 

“That’s all.” 

McKay picked up his rifle and glanced out at 
the waiting warriors. His mates likewise 
gripped their guns. Silently the three extended 
their right hands. Each looked deep into the 
eyes of the comrades he left behind. 

“You will come back another time, perhaps, 
to see how we run our kingdom?” Jose asked, a 
bit wistfully. 

Slowly their heads shook. The Spaniard 
sighed. 

“We’re through here,” McKay said. “May 
ramble in some other part of the world, but not 
here. We’ve talked it over, and—this is good- 
by and good luck.” 

“And may good luck go with you also, com- 
paneros,” Jose echoed, soberly. “You will not 
forget us, fighting down here to build a nation. 
If God favors us, we shall make a monument to 
ourselves that shall stand long after we are gone 
—a strong people, where before was nothing 
but wild beasts.” 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 343 

“We won’t forget.’’ 

They turned away. But Knowlton wheeled 
back, fumbling at a shirt pocket. 

“Say,” he blurted, “speaking of monuments 
—Watch out for a shipment from the States in 
a few months. I’ve been thinking— Well, I 
made a couple of sketches to pass away the time, 
and here’s the rough one. The other’s the 
same, only better drawn. Going to have some 
bronze plates made by a good man up home— 
ship ’em to you at Iquitos—you’ll get them 
through some trader who knows you? Thought 
so. Set up a good stone block out here and put 
on the plates when you get them. It’s just a 
fool idea of mine—Tim suggested it without 
meaning to, awhile ago—it’s not the same kind 
of statue he spoke of, though. Sort of a fare¬ 
well remembrance that means something. Like 
it?” 

Jose, studying the rough sketch put in his 
hand, looked up with eyes suddenly misty. 

“Teniente, it means something indeed—more 
than I can tell you. I shall be most proud to 
have it. And so long as I live I shall fight to 
keep it true.” 

“Good! Well—adios!” 

The blond man tramped doorward. The 
others followed, Jose limping slightly. Curac 
grunted. The lounging men sprang up, donned 
packs, and, with their scar-faced commander at 
their head, lined out toward the guard hut 


344 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

where the downward path began. Outside, in 
the sun, the three adventurers paused for the 
last time, looking back at the three from whose 
lives they were passing forever. 

“Luck, Dave!” said McKay. 

“I have luck,” was the serene answer. As he 
spoke, the man they left behind passed an arm 
around the slender waist of Nune and drew her 
to him. “Adios!” 

Something golden flashed in the fingers of 
Nune. She raised it to her lips and held it 
there. Above the gold cross which had carried 
her safe through the most appalling savagery, 
the deep eyes of the priestess of Piatzo dwelt 
on the departing men who had, after all, 
brought her Rana to her. In their dark depths 
shone a farewell and a benediction, and in the 
gleam of the golden token at her lips was a sym¬ 
bolic blessing, which were to remain in the mem¬ 
ories of the northerners long after they had 
plunged into the jungle shadows awaiting them. 

Three hands rose to the brims of broad hats. 
Three faces turned away. Three backs receded, 
marching in steady unison, toward the trail. 
They wheeled at the guard hut, sank below the 
brink, and were gone. 

“Come,” said Jose. 

Across the mesa he limped, Rand and Nune 
sauntering easily beside him. On a breezy point 
at the farther end they halted, looking down. 
A depression in the green marked the line of a 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 345 

path, and at one point the path itself was visible 
for a short way. After a time the king pointed 
to it. 

Into that blank stretch of path had come 
moving figures—light bronze men creeping 
along with steady rhythm, tiny glints of sun 
flickering from carbines swaying in their hands. 
The line lengthened. Then came three brown¬ 
ish hats, three khaki forms. The file grew 
shorter, shorter, vanishing into the green blanket 
beyond. The three dwarfs in turn crept onward 
and faded out. Once more the path was empty. 

Rand drew a long, slow breath. His eyes 
lifted, roving along the line of heights hemming 
in his world. Then they encountered the steady 
regard of Jose. 

“Are you sorry?” quietly asked the Spaniard. 

“No.” 

The green-eyed man’s deep chest rose again; 
but this time he was inhaling the damp breath 
of the jungle as a man draws in the fragrance 
of his homeland. His arms stretched wide and 
came slowly down. A glimmer of amusement 
showed under his black lashes. 

“That message I gave Rod,” he said, “was 
an order to my bank to give every dollar of 
mine to Tim Ryan!” 

A glad light flamed on the thin face of the 
king. 

“Por Dios! You are a partner indeed. You 
burn your bridges as I burned mine when I 


346 THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 

refused the bait of Peru. Ah, comrade, we shall 
pull together! We have a hard and bloody 
road before 1 us, with only death at the end. 
Yet, while we live, we have this”—his arm 
swept out at the boundless, lawless jungle— 
“and freedom, and the devotion of handsome 
women and strong men. It is enough. And, 
when we are gone— 

“See what Senor Knowlton is to send us. It 
shall stand upon this rock. And though this 
rock is lost in the wilderness and that monument 
may never be seen by another white man, I 
would not exchange it for the title of Conqueror 
of the World!” 

Into his partner’s palm he pressed the little 
sketch depicting the bronze plates which, by 
devious ways, were to come at last to the top 
of that jungle-buried fortress and, affixed to a 
block of stone left there by an unknown race, 
look down on a new king and a new nation. 
Rand studied it. Then he lifted thoughtful 
eyes to the man who had brought together the 
scattered seeds from which that nation now was 
growing; who, instead of destroying him and 
his winsome Nune, had given them a new life 
and a new home, in which they could be most 
content and most powerful for good. 

“It’s true,” he said. “In more ways than one. 
But your name isn’t on it.” 

“No. Yet, if my name—and yours—do not 


THE KING OF NO MAN’S LAND 347 

live in the hearts of those who come after us, 
they are best forgotten. Come.” 

And they turned away from the out-trail and 
walked silently back to the houses dedicated to 
the destinies of the White Ones. 

Of the two plates, one was oval and one was 
square. From the oval looked a striking like¬ 
ness of Jose Martinez: eagle faced, hawk eyed, 
resolute, gazing far-sighted into the mist } 7 dis¬ 
tances of an unknown land and an unborn future. 
Below, within the square, stood the words 
spoken by Jose on the day when he first led 
white men into his forbidden fastness—words 
before which the greatest conquerors in all his¬ 
tory, who had slain their millions and plunged 
empires into agony and desolation, might well 
hang their heads in shame: 


I FOUND A RUIN 
AND I MADE 
A HOME 


THE END 





New Fiction 


The Call of the Canyon By zone Grey 
The Steadfast Heart 


By Clarence Budington Kelland 
The Golden Ladder By Rupert Hughes 


Easy 


By Nina Wilcox Putnam 


On the Lot and Off 

By George Randolph Chester 


The King of No Man’s Land 

By Arthur 0 . Friel 


Big Brother 


By Rex Beach 


HARPER & BROTHERS, Publishers, NEW YORK 



























































































